


Riders of Duracia: A Kingdom Rises

by Jolly_Writer



Series: Duracia [1]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010)
Genre: Assassin's Creed References, Fantasy, Gen, Harry Potter References, Historical Fantasy, Historical Inaccuracy, Leaving Berk, Multi, Possession, Possible Character Death, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-19 09:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1464856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jolly_Writer/pseuds/Jolly_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We soar above the lands to protect the lives below. We are man. We are beast. We are Dragon Riders."</p><p>Hiccup fears the worst if he stays on Berk to 'kill' the dragon. What other option does he have? Leave. On their adventure away from Berk, Hiccup and the dragons come across some interesting individuals and also unique lands. They return years later to Berk to finally destroy the dragon queen with some friends; human, dragon, and other mythical/mystical creatures alike.</p><p>The Hairy Hooligans won't know what hit them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Decisions, Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creed Language: English
> 
> ALERT: Any and all foreign languages included in this series will have been translated using Google Translate. Being bilingual (American English & Latin American Spanish), and having limited experience with Italian, I know that Google Translate isn't perfect. I use foreign languages for immersion, but I know better than anyone how bad grammar can pull you out of a story. So if I use a language you know in my story, and you find the grammar and such incorrect, don't be afraid to correct me in a comment. I will do my best to correct the translations, and then offer credit of your translations in the corresponding chapter notes. Full complete and correct translations are preferred, along with note of which lines you're correcting.

_**We swear by the Flames of Honor to stay our blades from the innocent.** _   
_**We swear by the Waterfall of Longevity to never betray the Order.** _   
_**No creature is left behind. No soul is forgotten.** _   
_**We work in the night to serve the light.** _   
_**We soar above the lands to protect the lives below.** _   
_**We are man. We are beast.** _   
_**We are Dragon Riders.** _

  
He wonders what exactly he did wrong to deserve this. Yes his old dream was to take down a dragon and hopefully gain the pride of his father and the respect of his village. But everything changed that one day.  
  
Not only did he finally take down a dragon – a Night Fury, no less – but he also realized he did not have the heart to kill it. Since he was a mere babe, he had been taught to believe that dragons were mindless vicious creatures that killed at first sight because that is what they do; that that was what they have always done. He was told that they were emotionless, felt no guilt or shame, and showed no mercy.  
  
He was told wrong.  
  
He let that dragon free, and that very same dragon spared him. With a roar of warning, the dragon let him live...and left. Hiccup, being the curious young teen he was, could not help but visit the dragon again, and again...and again. In that dragon, he found a loyal and caring friend. In that dragon, he found more than his own village had ever given him. At some point, he concluded that his mother took pity on him from the afterlife, and sent him a friend. The one thing he knew he would always need, would probably ever need.  
  
But he still had to go to dragon training. A class he was starting to hate a little more each day. Because he could not find it in himself to hurt dragons after his time with Toothless – the name he gave his dragon friend – he started to use tricks he learned in his time with Toothless to survive in the ring. He just did not account for the rest of the village to see his tricks as him defeating the dragons. Now he was getting the attention he had always wanted as a child...and he did not like it one bit.  
  
He would have stopped and just let the others fight the dragons while he stayed out of harm's way, but that would mean leaving the dragons to be injured by his classmates. In correspondence with his sudden attention, Astrid had become more vicious in the ring, outraged that he was besting her and as a last resort to gain the pride of the village. She was number one; she was supposed to be the best, so why was the village fool becoming the prodigy.  
  
However, unlike Astrid, Hiccup did not care for the attention. That attention was superficial, based on false pride for what they believed to be their new best warrior. No, he did not want that. He wanted someone to care for him for who he was, and that someone happened to be his friendly Night Fury companion.  
  
But Toothless was more than just a friend, he was Hiccup's _best_ friend. Moreover, because of Hiccup's past desire for attention, he was Hiccup's handicapped best friend. The hit of the launched bola combined with the harsh landing from the sky resulted in Toothless losing his left tail fin. To atone for his mistake, Hiccup constructed a new tail fin for Toothless. In the months that passed, he perfected the prosthetic fin and learned how to work it. Seeing as the only way to have the fin open and direct Toothless' flight was to have Hiccup manually control it, he created a harness and system of wires that he operated from a saddle he placed on Toothless' back. Together, Hiccup and Toothless learned to fly – fly again in Toothless' case – and rediscovered the beauty of the open sky and the freedom it instilled in the two friends.  
  
In their short trips to neighboring islands, Hiccup learned of the dragons' innocence. How they were nothing like how his village and ancestors perceived them to be. Nevertheless, he had learned of this too late, decided to relent in his sudden 'skill' in the ring at the worst of times. His father was back from the recent nest hunt, and the finals of dragon training were near. Tomorrow he would compete with Astrid to see who would get the 'honor' of killing the dragon.  
  
He was very tempted to let Astrid win against the dragon so that she would get selected to kill the dragon. Then again, that would mean leaving the Gronckle to be beaten and the Nightmare to be killed. Besides, who knew what would happen to the other dragons if he left them to the village.  
  
What did he do to deserve such conflicting events and such troubling choices?

Oh yeah…he decided to be different!

**_Nothing is true, everything is permitted._ **

_"… It is merely an observation of the nature of reality. To say that nothing is true, is to realize that the foundations of society are fragile, and that we must be the shepherds of our civilization. To say that everything is permitted, is to understand that we are the architects of our actions, and that we must live with their consequences, whether glorious or tragic…" –_ Ezio Auditore da Firenze

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally Posted: January 30, 2013  
> Recently Revised: January 17, 2015


	2. Well Great!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creed Language: Norwegian

**_Vi sverger ved flammene ære å bo våre blader fra de uskyldige._ **   
**_Vi sverger ved fossen for lang levetid å aldri forråde ordenen._ **   
**_Ingen skapning er igjen. Ingen sjel er glemt._ **   
**_Vi arbeider i natt for å tjene lyset._ **   
**_Vi sveve over landområdene å beskytte livene nedenfor._ **   
**_Vi er mann. Vi er dyret._ **   
**_Vi er dragerytterne._ **

Hiccup placed the helmet on top of his head, waiting for the ring gate to open. Although he made the decision to go along with the battle against the Gronckle, he was not sure he really wanted to go through with it. What if the Gronckle remembered Hiccup was the only one who never truly tried to hurt it? What if Astrid still beat the Gronckle? Even despite his attempts at stopping or delaying her. What if he 'defeated' the dragon and they chose him as the winner, what then?

"Good luck, Hiccup!" Gobber's voice came from behind him. Hiccup turned to see the one-armed, one-legged Viking limp his way over. Although Hiccup has known this man all his life, grown accustomed to his blunt personality, and was confident that Gobber wasn't going to hurt him; his heart still insisted that it needed to beat faster than should be deemed possible. Friend or not, everyone in the village was considered the enemy when it came to the subject of dragons. No one would even take a moment to listen to him talk, letting their inner Viking lunge for the creature before he even opened his mouth to explain, "Keep your wits about ya, boy! If ya win this, ya get to kill the dragon."  
  
"Yeah," Hiccup gulped, trying not to think of how much of a mess that would be. A man who did not have the heart to kill dragons, being practically forced to do so, "I can't wait!" he forced an excited smile. Gobber patted his back a little bit too hard in a show of support.  
  
In the next minute, Astrid Hofferson came to his side, not helping in keeping his composure. She did not speak, and to control his nerves, Hiccup did not either. They could both hear the cheers of their tribe, begging for bloodshed. They wanted to see two young warriors battle against an innocent dragon that they have held in their grasps for who knows how many years. They wanted to choose one of them to kill yet another innocent dragon. It all made Hiccup sick.

Hiccup clenched his fists, trying to rein in the sudden anger he felt. He was never one to anger easy, or anger at all really. However, this was something that he believed in that he did not need the pride of his village to drive him. He guessed the sudden anger was because, instead of spitting on him for failing to become one of them, they were now cheering for the false him, supporting him to do what he now wished he could avoid. Unfortunately, he could not just refuse to kill the dragon if he won. If he did, then the whole village would become suspicious and his father disappointed once again.  
  
The gate opened and Hiccup tried not to lose the feeling in his legs. Astrid walked in confidently, ready for battle, ready to win. Hiccup was not as sure of himself. With a little push from Gobber, Hiccup made his way forward.  
  
Both of the young Vikings made their way in, Astrid quick to hide and prepare for attack, Hiccup looking around at all the villagers surrounding him wondering how he could get out of this situation. He joined in on Astrid's actions and hid behind another of the hurdles placed in the arena. Gobber released the dragon, left the ring, and the battle began.  
  
Astrid was a bloodthirsty warrior, running, hiding, looking for openings. Hiccup chose to run to nearby hurdles and hide, to make it seem like he was participating. As he sat in his hiding spot, he watched the Gronckle make its way around the ring. It did not look like it was really trying, as if it could either care less or was a little out of it. At some point during his scouting of the Gronckle, Astrid came, unknowingly, to sit beside him. Hiccup turned to her with a smile, only for her to push him down by his shield.

“Stay out of my way!” she leaned threateningly closer to him, glaring into his eyes with a look that could kill, “I’m winning this thing.” She ran off leaving Hiccup a little frightened.

“Please, by all means.” Hiccup responded as she ran off, standing as he did. He looked up to see his father standing outside the ring, looking down upon him with pride. Hiccup rolled his eyes and forced a smile before it fell from his face. The Gronckle continued to hover over the hurdles, lazily looking around. Astrid followed behind it, jumping from hurdle to hurdle.

“This time,” Astrid panted, “this time for sure!” she stood and grabbed the top of the hurdle, jumping over it with a battle cry. She jumped another only to come to a stop. There the Gronckle was, on its side, unconscious, and kicking its back leg. Hiccup stood next to it. He could not help calming the dragon the way he did. It looked a little sick, not really in the mood to fight; and out of instinct, Hiccup’s hand just reached out for the dragon. It seems the slight scent of the Dragon Nip still lingered on his hand for the Gronckle just proceeded to tumble over. Hiccup braced for impact and the Gronckle fell beside him. Hiccup looked up into Astrid’s shocked wide eyes and just shrugged, gesturing at the dragon sheepishly. Astrid snapped.

“No! No, son of a half-troll, rat-eating, munge-bucket!” she swung her axe around in rage. The audience burst into cheers.

“Wait, wait.” Stoick called out to the crowd, stepping up next to the village elder.

“Sooo…later.” Hiccup tried to make his escape. A hook pulled him back by the neck of his vest.

“Not so fast.” Gobber dropped him right in the path of Astrid’s rage.

“I’m kind of late for…” he tried to excuse himself, but an axe at his throat stopped him.

“What?!” Astrid looked crazed as she gestured with her hand, pressed the axe closer to his neck, “Late for what, exactly?” Hiccup took a step back from the enraged teen.

“Quiet down! The elder has decided.” Stoick called out, holding a hand up to call attention to the crowd. Gobber held his hook over Astrid’s head and the short old Viking shook her head. Gobber held his hand over Hiccup’s head, Astrid turning to glare at him, and the elder approved. Hiccup cringed as the cheers rose in volume. Astrid glared even more intently at him as Gobber’s face lit up.

“Oh, you’ve done it, Hiccup!” He wrapped his hooked arm around the disappointed young Viking, “You get to kill the dragon!” the rest of the teens came over, Fishlegs picking him up and carrying him on his shoulders. Hiccup laughed awkwardly and with no excitement.

“That’s my boy!” his father, Stoick the Vast, cheered from up above.

“Yeah. Yes. I can’t wait. I am so…” Hiccup said without emotion, throwing a fist in the air without any real joy, “…excited…” he sighed as he was carried out.

This complicated things…

**_Ingenting er sant, alt er tillatt._ **

_"Where you stand and how you move can make all the difference."_ – Mario Auditore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally Posted: February 2, 2013  
> Recently Revised: January 17, 2015


	3. Dream Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creed Language: Swahili

_**Sisi kuapa kwa moto wa heshima kukaa vile wetu kutoka hatia.** _   
_**Sisi kuapa kwa maporomoko ya maji ya maisha ya muda mrefu na kamwe kumsaliti utaratibu.** _   
_**Wala hakuna kiumbe wa kushoto nyuma. Nafsi yoyote wamesahau.** _   
_**Sisi kazi katika usiku kutumikia mwanga.** _   
_**Sisi soar juu ardhi kulinda maisha ya chini.** _   
_**Sisi ni mtu. Sisi ni mnyama.** _   
_**Sisi ni joka wanunuzi.** _

After the unnecessary celebration of his upcoming honorable kill, Hiccup was quick to rush home, making excuses, and ran to his room. When he made it behind closed doors, he turned to his bedroom door and began to lightly hit his head against it.

“Suffering scallops…what do I do now?” he could only think of the dragon that he would be forced to kill tomorrow; either that or risk being banished and Toothless being discovered and killed if Hiccup tried to reveal the true nature of dragons. However, Hiccup knew he could not do either. There was only one logical choice that he could think of, but he was not sure if he could do it. He turned around, leaning against the door, and looked to his bed. He wished he could go check up on Toothless, but with the glares Astrid was sending his way, there was no doubt she would hunt him down for either revenge or an explanation. Sighing in defeat, he dragged his feet to his bed and threw himself on it. Maybe a short nap could help clear his racing thoughts.

_It was not long after his eyes drifted closed that he began to dream. It was a strange dream, one that will continue to keep him up at night for possibly the next few months trying to understand it. What he saw was flashes of events, all blurry and unclear. They never seemed to stop or last for very long. As the dream continued, the images began to slow some. These lingering visions did more than show him blurring scenes. They also instilled feelings in him, feelings he could not quite connect with a few of these images._

_For some, he felt a deep hatred. A specific vision was dark with less than enough focus. Was he somewhere underground, or perhaps a cave? Was he taken prisoner? Or seeking refuge?_

_The image changed again. This one made him feel exposed and fearful. He found himself in a large open space with lots of sunlight. He could not make out much of what was around him, but he could hear things. They sounded like cheers from an audience, which would explain the large layer of colors surrounding him. Suddenly there was a weight in his hand and someone’s blurry figure before him. Before he could try to understand what this dream was trying to tell him, the image changed again._

_This one gave him the impression of brief remorse and some accomplishment. He was now standing in the middle of an alley in a strange land. He was far into the alley, seeing as the blurry figures that moved at its entrance had not noticed him. He looked down to see a reddish figure lying beneath him. It was blurry, but he guessed it was a person. The red suggested that the person was dead and covered in blood. He raised his right hand into view. What should have been five blurry skin-colored lines were four lines with a long silver blur replacing the fifth. The silver blur was tinted red at the tip._

_The image changed again, but this time, he could not make out a thing in the rushing blur of color that surrounded him. Everything was green, blue, and brown, with the occasional extra color here and there. He guessed he was running or_ floating _through a land very rich of trees and flowers. Amazingly, despite the rush of scenery, this image gave him a very calm and relaxed feeling. Seconds into this vision, it started to slow, and he could faintly hear a woman’s soft voice singing._

_“Deep in the meadow, under the willow; A bed of grass, a soft green pillow; Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes; And when again they open, the sun will rise.”_

_The voice was light and gentle, with a beautiful flow to it. It was the type of voice, which could calm a raging monster, put to sleep the most restless of stubborn children._

_“Here it's safe, here it's warm; Here the daisies guard you from harm; Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true; Here is the place where I love you.”_

_The voice got louder as the vision slowed to a regular speed. He came to a beautiful meadow with flowers of every color and shape, tall trees covered with luscious green leaves. In the middle of the meadow was a clear lake, with a small island in the center. On that island was a pure white gazebo with small bridges branching out on two opposite sides, connecting the island gazebo with the rest of the meadow._

_Despite the beautiful scene of nature, what caught Hiccup’s mental eye were the figures in the gazebo. One was an older woman with dark tan skin and long dark hair. She was the one singing, and her voice sounded more angelic up close. She was dressed in elegant robes with a sword strapped to her hip; not the most likely combination. In front of her was a little girl, no more than four years old. She had hair lighter than the woman that reached down her back. Her skin also had a tanned look to it, but it was lighter than the woman’s. The little girl stared out across the meadow, her forest green eyes taking everything in as the woman brushed her hair._

_“Deep in the meadow, hidden far away; A cloak of leaves, A moonbeam ray, Forget your woes and let your troubles lay; And when again it's morning, they'll wash away.”_

_The little girl was now singing along, her voice high-pitched and sounding very much like that of a young child. The woman smiled warmly as she sung with the girl, softly brushing down her hair. When she finished, she put down the brush and leaned forward to hug the girl. Together they sat on that gazebo floor, child leaning back into a guardian’s embrace, singing beautifully a precious lullaby._

_“Here it's safe, here it's warm; Here the daisies guard you from every harm; Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true; Here is the place where I love you.”_

_The little girl closed her green eyes and proceeded to fall asleep. As her breathing evened out, the woman looked up and seemed to stare straight at Hiccup._

_Her deep crystal blue eyes gazing into his soul._

Hiccup gasped as he came back to consciousness. That was probably the strangest dream he has ever had. It was probably the most enlightening as well. Everything in this dream, whether clear or a blur, were all things he could not experience on the island of Berk. Yes, some were not experiences he would likely enjoy, but it looked like the positives outweighed the negatives.

Then again, what exactly was the dream telling him? That he should leave the island? That he should stay, less he would want to be imprisoned? That he had strange dreams and there was something wrong with him?

Then he remembered the woman singing to the child. They looked like they were related. However, the relationship between them was in question: mother and daughter, or sisters? Despite that mystery, one thing was clear. She was not from anywhere around Berk. Her tanned skin just a few shades lighter than his fur vest, suggested she was from somewhere near more tropical lands. Nevertheless, that feature seemed to work in her favor; the woman was beautiful.

Ever since he had seen her, especially in action, Hiccup had had a crush on Astrid. He saw her as beautiful and the best suited to be the love of a Viking. However, he had started to realize her true colors. If he thought he was stubborn in his attempts to become the Viking son his father, and whole village, had always wanted, he obviously never had the pleasure of truly meeting the young shield maiden.

She was obsessed with being the best. She hardly socialized, kept to herself, but trained non-stop. It was as if she strived to be the perfect Viking, the best dragon killer. To the point that she would get enraged and hold an axe to his neck when she did not win a competition that was all about being the first to kill a dragon. At the moment, the only thing she had going for her in Hiccup’s opinion, were her good looks. And even that was starting to diminish, seeing as the crazed look she took on earlier in the day greatly decreased her beauty.

On the other hand, the woman from his dream was truly beautiful, he could tell. She was obviously beautiful in appearance. Her dark youthful skin gave her the illusion of being baby smooth to the touch, but gave an exotic look to her. Her long black hair flowed down her back like a dark waterfall. It looked fur soft and he wanted to run his fingers through it. The most beautiful of her features were her eyes. The deep crystal blue seemed to sparkle in the sunlight and stood out beautifully because of the dark color of her skin.

The way she took care of and held the child also showed her loving nature. Her gentle touch and lovely voice drew him to her, which saddened him since she was nothing but a dream, and an older woman. She was possibly twenty years of age or so. Then again, like any other Viking man, Hiccup also wanted a strong woman (unlike some others, he would not mind one stronger than him). Judging by her scars, calloused hands, and the sword at her hip (and the missing left ring finger, did he mention that), she was as much a warrior as she was a kindhearted beauty.

Nevertheless, she was not real so he forced thoughts of the dark-skinned beauty and her adorable little companion to the back of his mind. He had more pressing matters to attend to than dreams of beautiful women and adorable children.

Hiccup looked out the window of his room the best he could, lying down on his bed. It seemed he slept for a considerate amount of time. It appeared the sun was bound to set soon. He was losing time. He needed to decide what he was going to do, and soon. With minimal effort, Hiccup rose from his bed and made his way to the window. He looked out into the horizon, his dream coming to mind again despite his attempts at keeping it at bay.

What if his dream was about possibilities? What he could do and be involved in if he left? What if they were snapshots of his possible future? That the gods themselves implanted into his mind to help him make his decision? On the other hand, maybe he was simply desperate to find an explanation for his dream.

Whether his assumptions were right or wrong, leaving the village seemed like the lesser of two evils; if the woman was any sign. Taking his gaze off the beautiful horizon, he made his way out of his room and out of his home. Walking around, Hiccup tried to determine whether he would miss anything if he left. He would probably miss the positive attention, but he would lose that either way. When the villagers find out that he could not kill a dragon or that everything in the ring was a trick, he could kiss this new respect goodbye. Without being aware of it, his mind tried to put the village to memory, to keep its current state in mind.

By the time Hiccup made it back into his room, his decision was made.

**_Hakuna kitu ni kweli, kila kitu ni halali._ **

_"Fear not the darkness – but welcome its embrace." –_ Ezio Auditore da Firenze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally Posted: February 9, 2013  
> Recently Revised: January 17, 2015


	4. Great Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creed Language: Icelandic

_**Við sver af loga heiður að vera blað okkar frá saklaus.** _   
_**Við sverja við fossinn langlífi að aldrei svíkja röð.** _   
_**Engin skepna er vinstri á bak við. Engin sál er gleymt.** _   
_**Við vinnum í nótt til að þjóna ljós.** _   
_**Við svífa yfir lönd til að vernda líf neðan.** _   
_**Við erum maður. Við erum skepna.** _   
_**Við erum dreki reiðmenn.** _

“Okay…I’m gonna need…this,” Hiccup mumbled to himself as he packed his over-the-shoulder basket. He realized hours ago that what he was planning to do was reckless, dangerous even. Nevertheless, it was for the best. He could not stay, that was a fact. Still, the world beyond Berk was a mystery to him. He has only ever left to visit the island home of the Bog-Burglar Tribe, and that was like visiting an all-female version of his own tribe, and to visit the Meatheads, yet another Viking tribe. So not much different from his own home.  
  
What is the outside world like? Are the others as ruthless as the Romans? As stubborn and somewhat barbaric as Vikings? Or were they completely different?  
  
He remembers some Englishmen that traveled up to Berk for trade. Though they seemed very stuck up and into themselves. Or at the very least, some of them. This was one of many situations in which he would wish his English were better, than he would not have had so much trouble understanding them with they visited. Looking at the bright side, if he left Berk, he could visit the Anglo-Saxon lands and properly learn the language. Possibly learn other languages from those who help him with his English. That would definitely help in his travels.  
  
Hiccup packed his clothes and undergarments, his fishing rod, a few bags of silver coins, and his journals. If he was going to explore the world, he was not leaving an experience unrecorded. Toothless should not mind the extra weight. He fixed his clothes, stuffing his vest in the basket, and strapped his dagger to his waist. Just to be sure.  
  
Stepping away from the basket, and in turn his bed, he looked back out his window. The sun was low enough in the sky that most of the village would be either asleep or getting to bed. Perfect for flying away from a Viking settled island.  
  
With a sigh, Hiccup reached for and strapped on his riding harness. Now he just needed to pick up a few things from the forge and he would be ready to go.  
  
He grabbed his basket and made his way out of his room, taking extra care to stay quiet. He ran his hand along the walls as he slowly walked out. He did not have the most wonderful memories of this place, at least recently. Nevertheless, this is the home that his father used to happily wake him up in every day. This is the home where he would make his way down and have breakfast with his father, like a slightly broken but content family. This is the home where his father used to bring him in for a hug and cheer him up, telling him how proud his mother would be if she could see him. He might not be his father’s special little Viking, his father’s brave warrior, his father’s favorite person in world…at least not anymore; but he could tell his father cared for him, and still does.  
  
The feel of this once warm home has cooled down, changed. But it was still the only home he has ever known. He was going to miss it, even if only a bit.  
  
Once he was out the door, he did not stay to sulk. He would never leave if he did. He sneaked through the village to the forge, ducking out of view when a random villager would walk pass. He made his way in, walked into the back, and began taking what he needed. When he was done, he snuck back into the village and closer to the forest.

Hiccup ran through the forest, keeping his eyes out for ditches and branches. Falling on his rear in the dark was not how he wanted to start off his great escape. He did not slow down until the entrance to the cove came into view. Before continuing in, he glanced at his surroundings. Cannot have anyone following him now can he?  
  
"…leaving. We're leaving. Let's pack up. Looks like you and me are taking a little vacation…forever." Hiccup called out as he entered the cove. Toothless the Night Fury came out of the shadows, took a few sniffs, and ran towards his rider with a big dragon smile on his snout. Hiccup braced himself as Toothless knocked him down and licked his face. Hiccup laughed, trying to push the dragon off him, "Okay Tooth, okay! I get it, you're excited about finally leaving! But ya'gotta get off for that to happen, buddy."

Toothless got up off Hiccup, his scaly tail wagging behind him like a dog. For a split second, Hiccup thought it was cute. Then memories of just how ferocious Toothless can get washed that stray thought away. He walked over to Toothless and began strapping on the basket, “Tell me if it feels unbalanced or uncomfortable.”

Moments later, Hiccup was nestled on the saddle and Toothless was testing out his wings, making sure they could move freely. As Toothless did this, Hiccup could not help but think of the other dragons back in their pens. Captured and kept imprisoned for years, only to possibly get slaughtered at dawn when the village realized Hiccup was gone and sent Astrid in his stead. He could not leave them there when he and Toothless would be escaping without trouble.  
  
"We can't leave yet." Hiccup announced abruptly. Toothless stiffened beneath him. The Fury looked over his shoulder to stare, shocked at his rider and human friend. The boy could not be serious. He warbled his concern. Hiccup looked down and sighed. He could not understand dragons, but he knew Toothless enough to understand what he was _trying_ to say.  
  
"I know, I know. We're so close, why delay, right?" Toothless nodded, glad his friend understood him to an extent, "But those other dragons; the Nightmare, Gronckle, Nadder, Zippleback, and Terror. They're stuck, with no way out, in the center of a dragon-killing Viking village. We leave them, they'll be dead before the second sunrise. We have to help them, Toothless." Hiccup said, trying to express his worry for the captured creatures.  
  
Toothless had to think for a second. They could either leave now and leave his fellow dragons at the mercy of the barbaric humans, or risk a rescue and flee mission. He did not want to sound selfish, but he would rather leave now and avoid all danger. But Hiccup was right. They had to do what was right.

Toothless gave a sharp nod, determined. Hiccup smiled.  
  
"You're the best, buddy."  
  
**_~*~ Safety  and Peace~*~_**  
  
"Okay...um...okay..." Toothless turned to stare at Hiccup with an unimpressed expression. _Really?_  
  
They were along the side of the mountain on which the Kill Ring was located, standing on a platform that jutted out of the natural structure. They could see the Kill Ring, the bridge connecting it to the rest of the village, and a section of the village that was located the closest to the other side of the bridge.  
  
Hiccup glanced over at Toothless only to sigh in frustration, "Well sorry that I didn't plan this out. I just came up with the idea _five minutes ago_!" Toothless huffed. Hiccup shook his head and turned back to the Kill Ring. No one was guarding the ring. _Because they’re not expecting someone to set them free. Island of dragon-killing Vikings here!_ Hiccup thought bitterly. However, there was still the one man who always did the nightly patrol around the village. He would take at the least one hour to go through the whole village. That should be enough time for Hiccup to get in and have Toothless help him calm the other dragons. Besides there was also the fact that he was sure the captive dragons were not hurt in any way. Therefore, he could always send them out on their own if time ran out. With clear and strict instructions – with Toothless’ help – to stay low and fly _away_ from the village and not anywhere near it.

“C’mon Toothless.” Hiccup pulled at the saddle and Toothless followed. They carefully trudged down the mountain, grateful for the thin but stable ‘walkway’ down to the Kill Ring. When they made it to the gate, Hiccup told Toothless to stay back and wait for the patrol guard to walk by. When he did, the two pulled the lever for the gate together as silently as they could, and slipped in.

“Um…let’s get the Nightmare last. Since I’ve already been in some kind of contact with the others, I might have a better chance with them. Then maybe the Nightmare will trust me more with the help of the others?” Hiccup looked to Toothless for approval. The Night Fury just shrugged. He has never met this Nightmare. What if that dragon was a prick of a reptile? He would not know. Hiccup sighed and started with the Gronckle. He reached for the lever and pulled it down, praying to the gods that nothing bad would happen.

The Gronckle hovered its way out of the pen, not even charging. It just slowly made its way around the ring, looking left and right. Hiccup finally let out the breath he was holding and walked over to the Gronckle.  It seemed to study him, watch his every moment, despite looking quite sick. Hiccup slowly reached a hand up to the Gronckle but did not make another move. The Gronckle stared at his hand, wondering if the human would hurt her, but nothing. It looked over at the lone Night Fury a ways behind the human. Toothless nodded.

The Gronckle hesitantly moved into Hiccup’s touch. Hiccup smiled. The Gronckle looked into his eyes; maybe she could trust _this_ human.

The others went about the same way. Hiccup would let them out, allow them to first study their surroundings, and then try to make friends. Toothless watched from the sidelines in case they tried to hurt Hiccup or needed a little encouragement.

Last was the Monstrous Nightmare. Hiccup was a little nervous about this one. At least he met the others at some point during dragon training.  
  
"Tooth...get ready..." Hiccup took a few breaths. He pulled the lever and closed his eyes.  
  
The doors burst open with a few flames flickering out. Hiccup cursed, hoping that did not get the attention of the patrol. Though seeing as the hour had not passed yet, he was not around. However, that meant their time was coming to a close and he would be in sight any minute now.  
  
The Nightmare soon calmed down at the sight of dragons, no humans. When he calmed, that is when Hiccup decided to show himself. He approached the Nightmare slowly as to not startle it. When the Nightmare noticed him, its eyes lost their soft expression and it switched to the defensive.  
  
"It's okay...I'm not like the others, I'm not one of them...I'm different, and I won't hurt you..." Hiccup held up his hand but did not move any closer. It was the Nightmare's turn to make a move.  
  
It did not do anything at first, and then it looked around at all the calm dragons around it. How could they be so relaxed when the one who has killed thousands of them stood right before them? Toothless decided to make his move. He walked up to stand beside Hiccup, and started to softly growl. He hissed and he grunted, he snorted and purred. When he finished, he jerked his head towards Hiccup. The one being gestured to could only stand in silence. Did Toothless just talk to the Nightmare? But in dragons sounds? Well, when humans talked, that would be technically _human sounds_ …

“Will you trust me now? At least enough to not hurt me?” Hiccup asked the Nightmare. It seemed to think for a second before nodding and stepping forward to press its snout to Hiccup’s hand. The young Viking smiled before taking his hand back. He walked to the gate and peeked outside. He could see the light of the patrol guard’s lantern. He was close and getting closer. They could not leave just yet. He would see them and report their situation to the chief, his father.

“We have to wait. When that man passes by, then we’ll take off. We’ll get out of here, don’t worry.” Once the man had passed by, the dragons snuck out one by one, Toothless and Hiccup in the lead. The duo of dragon and rider stood by the gate as the others made their way out and silently took off to the air. They hovered close by but out of sight. The duo closed the gate, Hiccup settled himself into the saddle, and Toothless joined the others.

Then they flew. They flew over seas and over land, for hours, landing for shorts break when needed. As the sun began to rise and their altitude to drop, Hiccup knew they had to land for the night soon. The dragons were already weak from their imprisonment, so they were beyond exhausted and they all needed to really rest at some point, soon. He looked around for a proper landing area, preferably something private, uninhabited, and with lots of cover.

“Toothless, over there! Okay guys, we’ll land over there!” he pointed off to an island about half a mile to their right. The dragons all banked to the right and made their way to the island. They landed on a sandy beach, a shaky landing because of exhaustion but a good landing, nonetheless. Hiccup jumped off Toothless and glanced around. It was warmer than Berk was but still held that cool temperature typical of the northern lands. It was covered with many evergreens that would provide shelter and cover. However, there was no true shelter familiar to him, a human. Hiccup smirked, for with the abundance of resources and his productive mind, that would not be a problem. Neither would living in the pure wild be. Still, even an open-minded fellow like him did not mind some luxury now and then.

“Welcome to our new home…at least for now.”

**_Ekkert er satt, allt er leyfilegt._ **

_"Be at peace now. Their words can no longer do harm." –_ Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally Posted: February 16, 2013  
> Recently Revised: January 18, 2015


	5. Equal Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creed Language: Latin

_**Iuramus per flammas honoris manere nostrum laminae ab innocentis.** _   
_**Cataracta iuramus per proditionem nullum ordinem longitudinis vitae est.** _   
_**Nulla creatura est derelinquatur. Nulla anima oblitus.** _   
_**Serviens nocte lux operamur.** _   
_**Nos ultra terris, ad tueri vivit infra.** _   
_**Sumus homo. Sumus bestiam.** _   
_**Sumus Draco relatis abducti.** _

Deep crystal blue eyes snapped open.

“ _Hebu kwenda! Kuchukua yako mikono mauaji mbali ya mimi!_ **₍₁₎** “ A woman’s voice shouted out in panic. She was a woman of tribal decent with dark brown colored skin and inch short dark hair. She was dressed in ragged clothes, blood soaked in the back area. She was weakly fighting against the hold of five guards who were none too gentle.

A little girl of about thirteen years of age jumped to her feet. She had equally dark skin just a few shades lighter than the older woman. Her head shaved instead of even a centimeter of hair, unlike the woman. The girl’s blue eyes widened in shock at the scene before her.

“ _Dimittes eam! Nolite tangere!_ **₍₂₎** _”_ She demanded in Latin. Haven’t they done enough to her family?! Her step-father, her brothers, now her mother? Could they make her life any more miserable?

“ _Non tua iussa, ancillam. Coactus erimus si non repellit descendite aequum nos relinquere._ **₍₃₎** ” One of the guards sharply told the girl. She was a rebellious little thing and they were not in the mood to deal with her. The woman in their custody was weakening already and they needed to remove her before she became dead weight.

“ _Hapana!_ **₍₄₎** ” the girl shouted and ran forward. She kicked at the nearest guard, and then punched the next in the jaw. It probably hurt her more than it hurt him, but she refused to stop. She punched and kicked some more before finally deciding to just pull the woman out of their grasp. The guards sighed in frustration, not affected by her actions, and began to pull her away. She screamed as they picked her up; the woman was losing consciousness. One of the guards was about to knock the girl unconscious when a voice called out.

“ _Subsisto_. **₍₅₎** ” a deep voice halted their actions. The man who had hauled up the girl put her down but kept his hold on her. The remaining guards that were holding up the weakened woman held her up properly; one of them was trying to discretely wake her up. Blood was flowing lightly down the woman’s back, soaking through her already filthy robes even more, “ _Sit puella vade. Mulierem iacentem supra lectum. Quando isti ordines completae sunt, vos es dimissi_. **₍₅₎** ” The man ordered.

“ _Scilicet, Generalis Cassius_. **₍₆₎** ” The guards did as they were told, letting the girl go and setting the woman back in the worn and torn bed inside the room she was taken from. The girl ran to kneel beside the woman, gently caressing her face. She looked so fragile, so void of life. A strange sight, seeing as the woman has – or had – such a lively personality.

“Uzuri…” the man called out to the little girl. She stiffened in her position. Not once since the man arrived did she give him the honor of a mere glance. She knew who this man was. Moreover, she did not care for or respect the man, despite his kindness to only her.

“General.” She addressed him in his native tongue, Latin. She only turned enough to see him out of the corner of her eye.

The man stood tall at about six feet with short dark brown hair and a lightly tanned complexion. He was dressed in the garments of a Roman general, pristine and powerful. He held an aura of authority around him that called for respect and attention. He stood in perfect posture, straight and with his hands clasped behind his back. He had the same crystal blue eyes as the girl, Uzuri. 

“I am here to express my sorrow for your mother’s condition. If I knew of her treatment before it was delivered, I would have ceased it within moments of being notified.” He ‘apologized’ in the same Latin, his expression as stiff as his words. Uzuri huffed and looked back to her mother. She had her eyes closed and was taking shallow breaths. She would open her eyes a centimeter or so every few seconds. She was awake just very weak and sick.

“Where were those guards going to take her?” Uzuri asked, grabbing a clean cloth from the small section next to her mother’s bed. She set it up last night to care for her mother. Clean clothes, a bowl of water, and bandages. She was not allowed more than that. She dipped the cloth in the water and began to wipe at her mother’s forehead, which started sweating from the strain of fighting against the guards.

The man, Cassius, took a moment before answering, “She was deemed too weak to survive the morning. The guards were ordered to take her to be relieved of her misery; killed quickly and painlessly.” Even Cassius had to wince the slightest bit at his statement. Although he could care less of the woman he bedded of his own pleasure all those years ago, the girl was another story. What he did not expect from the non-consensual joining was for the woman to become heavy with child. And what a beautiful child his daughter turned out to be.

Yes, she bared the skin of the foolish southerners that the Romans tended to take prisoner, but it was a lighter color that showed her parentage. She was half of her weak mother and half of her proud father. Although her mother never let her hair grow, Cassius knew her hair possessed the same dark color of her mother’s short hair; however, she received her father’s blue eyes. She was not weak-minded, but she let her emotions control her more often than not. Nevertheless, she had potential to be a warrior, and Cassius would make sure she was given the title. Woman or not, Uzuri could do great things for their empire.

“Relieve her of her misery or relieve yourselves of your burden?  She is my mother, General, not just another prisoner. You might not care for her but I certainly do.” Uzuri kept her eyes on her mother as she spoke, checking her pulse and wiping her forehead. Her heartbeat was slowing down and she was heating up. Her mother needed proper medical treatment; and as powerful of an authority figure Cassius was, he did not care much for her mother to get it for her. Her mother, Ziraili the southern prisoner, was not top priority. Uzuri was at a lost at what to do.

“Young lady, you will not speak to me in that manner! I am your father and you will show me respect.” Cassius could not take his daughter’s disrespect any longer. He adored the girl like nothing else but her attitude was too much to handle at times. His sharp disciplinary remark was bound to come at some point.

Uzuri clenched her fists, “I will not deny that you are my sire, General Cassius, but my father you are not. I’ve asked of you only one thing my whole life, and that was to keep my mother safe and healthy. You’ve failed to accomplish fulfilling my one request.” Uzuri had a feeling her actions and words could be seen as ungrateful, but what could she be grateful for. The only reason she even existed was because her sire took advantage of her mother. Then he left her to wallow in misery until Uzuri’s existence was made public to the prisoner underground. General Cassius was notified but only cared for Uzuri, not for Ziraili. Moreover, judging by her late half-brothers’ stories of their father, hers was far from the best. He offered security from the harsh life of a full-time prisoner. He also promised her the opportunity of becoming part of or the leader of the Roman Army. Nevertheless, she would give that all up for a prisoner’s life and a real father.

“Uzuri…” Cassius was losing hope that his only child would never view him with the respect of a true parental figure. He watched as Uzuri cleaned out her cloth and placed it back on Ziraili’s forehead. Although she was kneeling on the floor, her back was straight with pride.

“Leave Us.” Uzuri dismissed him. Her mother could possibly be dying and the General’s presence was causing her nothing but stress and disappointment. She heard Cassius sigh before leaving them, closing their cell’s door behind him. Once she heard the door close, Uzuri let her shoulders slump. She felt a tear fall from her eye slowly. Before she could wipe it away, a hand of a darker skin tone reached up and wiped it for her. She looked down to see her mother’s warm brown eyes open and fully aware.

“ _Mtoto wangu maskini_. **₍₇₎** ” her mother murmured in _her_ native tongue of Swahili. Uzuri, being fluent in the tongues of both her parents, understood her mother without trouble. Uzuri smiled, leaning into her mother’s touch. She brought her hands up to hold her mother’s hand in her own.

“ _Oh mama._ **₍₈₎** ” Uzuri whispered. She opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them, only for them to widen in panic. Her mother was bleeding; the slash wounds she received the day before must have reopened in all the chaos earlier, “Mother! You’re bleeding! Hurry and carefully sit up. I’ll clean and close your wounds for you.” She said in Swahili. She leaned forward to help her mother sit up but the injured woman weakly held her wrists.

“No, my child. It is no use. My time has come.” Although weak and now very fragile, Ziraili’s voice remained strong. Since the day she was born, she was said to have a strong heart and a strong will. Now her body was frail, but she was determined to meet her end with the same strength she possessed in her beginning. Gently moving aside, taking the bloody blanket with her, Ziraili patted the bed beside her, “Come, child. Lay with me.”

Uzuri wanted to protest. Her mother might have accepted death, but Uzuri was not ready to give up her mother. She already lost her brothers, Kimoni and Makalo; she was not going to lose her mother too. However, looking into her mother’s eyes, Uzuri knew that nothing would sway the older woman.

She sniffed, wiping another stray tear, before lying down beside her mother, her head on Ziraili’s chest. Ziraili reached up to stroke her daughter’s head. Closing her tired eyes, Ziraili began to sing.

“ _Maua mazuri yapendeza; Maua mazuri yapendeza; Ukiyatazama yanameremeta; Hakuna limoja lisilo pendeza; Ukiyatazama, yanameremeta; Hakuna limoja lisilo pendeza_.” Uzuri smiled as another tear flowed down her cheek. This was a song her mother used to sing to her every night when she was a child. She would ask her mother to sing it to her every time she woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. Her mother’s voice always calmed her down.

“ _Maua mazuri yapendeza_.” Ziraili’s voice was starting to slow and weaken, but she only steeled herself to continue. She could feel her feet and hands numbing, and she felt lightheaded. Nevertheless, her arms still had enough feeling to continue to stroke her darling daughter’s head. Her only child left. Uzuri could hear her mother’s heartbeat slow down and she sighed sadly. This could not be happening! But it was, “ _Maua mazuri yapendeza; Ukiyatazama yanameremeta; Maua mazuri yapendeza Ukiyatazama yanameremeta…Maua…mazuri…ya…pen…de_ …” the stroking of Uzuri’s head stopped.

The silence was deafening. A steady beating stopped, a rising chest stilled, a song ended too soon. Tears quietly flowed at the meaning of this particular silence. It was a silence that would forever change the young girl’s life. Clutching at her mother’s cold robes, Uzuri felt a need to fill the dead silence.

_Pumzika kwa amani, mama._ **₍₉₎**

“ _Maua mazuri yapendeza; Ukiyatazama utachekelea; Hakuna mmoja asiye yapenda; Maua mazuri yapendeza; Ukiyatazama utachekelea; Hakuna mmoja asiye yapenda_.” Uzuri finished the song, closing her blue eyes to welcome the darkness.

**_~*~ Safety  and Peace~*~_ **

A man of large proportions woke from his sleep to bright sunlight shining into his bedroom. The man rises from his bed to prepare for the day. As he dressed in his common attire, the man cannot help but feel pride and excitement. Today, his son would become a man, one of them, a Viking. With a smile, the man leaves his room fully dressed to head on up to his son’s room.

Reaching the door, the man knocks, “Son? Ya awake, son?” he receives no response. The man knocks again, “Son?” this time the man sighs and enters the room after he only gets more silence. However, the room is devoid of life; his son is not inside. The man sighs, believing his son is already up and probably getting ready for his big day.

The man left his house to check for his son in the village arena. With a mighty haul, he lifted the gates, not paying any mind to the handy lever, and walked in. Except the Kill Ring was empty and quiet…too quiet. The man walked over to the pens to press his ears against one of them. Not a sound. Hoping that his thoughts would not be proven true, the man opened the pen.

Empty.

The man scowled as he proceeded to open the rest of the pens, only to come to the same results.

“Where are the bloody dragons?!!” the man yelled out to the heavens, pure rage in his tone.

Within minutes, the ring filled with Vikings of all shapes and sizes (most of them big and round). They all surrounded the man, joining him in his discovery as they witnessed before them, five empty dragon pens. They could not believe their eyes. Without needing instructions, a portion of the Vikings set out to search for their dragon prisoners.

“Where are the dragons?” the man asked, not sparing a glance at the other Vikings. When he received no answers in return, the man spun around with blazing eyes, “Will someone tell me why I do not see any bloody dragons?!!” by this time, the rest of the village was surrounding the Kill Ring from the spectators’ section, wondering the same as the man.

Receiving many statements about not knowing of the dragons’ whereabouts, the man sighed in frustration and sent out another fleet of Vikings to search the island. Now that he had to wait for reports from the search parties, he decided to scan the villagers for his son. Everyone should be present by now because of his yelling. Still, he could not find his son in the crowd.

“Gobber?!” he called out over his shoulder. Soon a man of only one leg and one arm stood beside him, “Have you seen Hiccup?”

“I can’t say I ‘ave, Stoick. Was wonderin’ where the lad was myself!” the limb-missing man answered. The man, Stoick, sighed. He did not need this right now.

“Has anyone seen Hiccup?” he yelled out to the villagers. He looked to the teens in particular but they all shook their heads in the negative. No, they have not seen Hiccup. Although he could not tell from Astrid Hofferson’s expression if she was overjoyed or enraged with his son’s sudden disappearance. Stoick turned to the last of the Vikings waiting with him in the ring, “The rest of ya! Find Hiccup and bring ‘im here. We’ll be ‘aving a change in plans for today.” The last portion of Vikings set out to search for their chief’s son.

Hours. They searched the island for hours before reporting to Stoick with the bad news. The dragons, and Hiccup, were nowhere to be found. After the villagers claimed Hiccup must have been taken when the dragons had escaped, and was possibly dead, Stoick had to leave. He could not handle the slight possibility that his son, his only child, could be dead because the dragons got lucky. He dragged his feet – when the others were not looking – up to his home and up to his son’s room.

He ran his fingers along the walls and furniture, guessing this was the last place his son was before leaving the house and getting captured. Stoick sat on the small bed in the room, ignoring the creaking of the wood and mattress, and held the furs in his hands. His son could be dead. He could be forever gone. It was while thinking in this way that Stoick noticed the letter on his son’s side table. He picked it up and began to read.

_Stoick,_

_It is with much sorrow and grief that I relay this message to you. I have run away, left the island to live a new life. You are probably wondering why I would do such a thing. The answer is simple; I could not find it in myself to kill a dragon. All those times in the ring was me simply subduing the dragons to survive the training. You might call that defeating the beasts, but I see it more as finding the peaceful way out. Knowing you would not accept me and my views on killing our enemy, I decided to self-exile myself._

_You may say I am not a Viking. I will not disagree with you. I am not a Viking, and do not believe I will ever be. It is not in my nature to be one, to be a dragon-killer. You may say I am not your son. I hope you do not come to this conclusion. We have not seen eye to eye for some time now, but I have faith that we can change that. With time, of course._

_I do not know where I am going; I do not know when I will be back. All I am sure of is that my life starts anew once I leave the island, and I will probably return someday a new man._

_I will miss you, father._

_Hiccup_

Stoick read the letter again, then again, and finally for a fourth time. His son was gone, but not dead. His son self-exiled himself, yet promised to come back.

What now?

**_Nihil quidem licere._ **

_“Every man is mortal, every life comes to an end, but certain things will never change." –_ Giovanni Auditore da Firenze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1): Swahili “Hebu kwenda! Kuchukua yako mikono matata mbali ya mimi!” “Let me go! Take your vicious hands off of me!”  
> (2): Latin “Dimittes eam! Nolite tangere.” “Let her go! You are not to touch her.”  
> (3): Latin “Non tua iussa, ancillam. Coactus erimus si non repellit descendite aequum nos relinquere.” “We do not follow your orders, slave girl. We will be forced to take you down if you do not stand back and leave us to our duty.”  
> (4): Swahili “Hapana!” “No!”  
> (5): Latin “Subsisto…Sit puella vade. Mulierem iacentem supra lectum. Quando isti ordines completae sunt, vos es dimissi” “Stop…Let the girl go. Lay the woman on her bed. When these orders are complete, you are dismissed.”  
> (6): Latin “Scilicet, Generalis Cassius.” “Of course, General Cassius.”  
> (7): Swahili “Mtoto wangu maskini.” “My poor baby.”  
> (8): Swahili “Oh mama.” “Oh mother.”  
> (9): Swahili “Pumzika kwa amani, mama.” “Rest in peace, mother.”
> 
> Speaking with no italicizing is the speaking of a foreign language. I will always say what they are speaking, but if it’s not italicized, that means I wanted you to know what they were saying.  
> Speaking with italicizing can be any language. And it should be clear what language it is unlike the un-italicized speaking. Translations will always be at the bottom of the page. If a character is speaking in English while non-English speakers are present, it will be italicized.
> 
> Originally Posted: February 23, 2013  
> Recently Revised: January 18, 2015


	6. Better With TIme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creed Language: Irish

_**Swear muid ag na lasracha onóra chun fanacht ar ár lanna as an neamhchiontach.** _   
_**Swear muid ag an Eas ar fad saoil a riamh betray an Ordú.** _   
_**Níl aon creature fágtha taobh thiar. Níl aon anam dearmad.** _   
_**Bímid ag obair san oíche chun freastal ar an solas.** _   
_**Soar againn os cionn na tailte a chosaint ar an saol thíos.** _   
_**Tá muid fear. Tá muid Beast.** _   
_**Tá muid marcaigh Dragon.** _

A buck grazed around a meadow, eating its daily intake of grass. It stayed alert to the world around it and everything seemed calm to the animal. It moved along, eating more grass on its way around the area. It heard a rustle in the bushes to its left and it stood up, alert. It looked to where the sound came from.

A bird chirped up in a tree.

A squirrel ran across the ground before climbing up a tree.

A rustle came from the same bush as before.

A russet rabbit hopped out of the rustling bush and the buck seemed to calm its senses. It was only a rabbit; nothing was trying to kill it. Before it could go back to its morning meal, it felt a sharp stab to its neck and it swayed to the left from the sudden impact. Within a second, the buck glanced down at the right side of its neck to see a long thin stick coming out of its body with blood flowing from the stick’s area of entry.

The buck fell to the ground dead the next second.

From the bushes to the right of the buck came out a figure. It was male, young, with a simple short-sleeved tunic and dark worn out pants. He was not wearing shoes or much else. The young man walked with purpose to the buck and with a grunt pulled out the spear. He slipped the spear into a sheath strapped onto his back, then picked up the dead buck with another grunt. With some strain on his muscles, the young man made his way back into the trees and out of the meadow. Barefoot and in simple clothing, the young man somehow made his way through the forest without much difficulty.  He jumped over logs, pushed aside branches, and walked through small creeks; all while carrying the buck. After traveling through the forest for about ten minutes, the young man came to a clearing where a large tree resided.

Aside from it being bigger than its sister trees around it, this tree was different from the others in a unique way. Different levels of small makeshift shelters were located on branches as the eyes followed the tree’s length up. Three quarters of the way up the tree, in a section where the trunk split to many thinner branches, was a larger shelter with actual walls made from thin logs and held together by many yards of thick vines. Connecting the different levels were makeshift ladders made from more branches and vines.

The young man threw the buck over his shoulder with another grunt and started making his way up the ladder to the lowest level. On this level were many roughly made weapons and furs. The platform of this level was thin but wide, and so the young man chose a spot far from the supplies and dropped the buck.

**:⁞** _Hiccup?_ **⁞:**

The young man, Hiccup, looked over his shoulder to see a large black figure on the next level up. It was his dragon companion, Toothless. He was lazily lounging on the platform, half-hanging off it to look down at Hiccup. Although he could not see them, Hiccup also knew where the others were. The Nightmare – Paratyl – was laid across two large branches in a tree to his north. Then the little Terror – Ponto – was in the highest level of Hiccup’s makeshift tree house. The Nadder, Gronckle, and Zippleback – Arilla, Kimba, Taworri and Teangi, respectively – were probably out enjoying the beauty of their temporary island home.

**:⁞** _Yes?_ **⁞:** Hiccup responded with a calm growl. In the six months since he left his home, his dragon friends had taught him how to speak like a dragon. It took a while to adapt his vocal cords to make dragon like sounds like proper growls and hisses. It took even longer to understand their names, names they were given when just hatchlings; he wondered why Toothless never told him his real name. Along with the adaptions of his vocal cords, the dragons helped him develop his own version of draconic body language to increase his dragon communication skills. That was only one thing the dragons taught him.

**:⁞** _You did not have to go hunting you know. We could have done it for you ourselves. Arilla tends to bring more game than necessary anyway._ **⁞:** Toothless whispered. Hiccup had been pushing himself to train these past few moon cycles. He would wake early at dawn to run around the small island, then go for a morning swim against the strong waves, then take trips through the forest of the island, silently making his way through any natural obstacle. The boy was becoming faster, stronger, and more agile as the days went by. Then there were the friendly spars he would have with the dragons almost on a daily basis. Nevertheless, Toothless was worried that his friend would someday go beyond his limits, and Toothless would not know how to help.

**:⁞** _We have discussed this already, Tooth. I am not that weak little hatchling anymore. I am strong enough to carry a full grown buck without so much as a sweat. I am fast enough to outrun Paratyl at times. I can sometimes even catch_ you _off guard when we spar._ **⁞:** Hiccup protested as he used his trusty dagger to skin the buck before him. He was done with that and starting to remove the guts of the buck when he continued, **:⁞** _I asked you guys to teach me how to hunt for a reason, Toothless. And it most certainly was not to sit back and have you all drop my meals at my feet. If you are all going to hunt for yourselves, I am not going to be some useless fool who does not follow along._ **⁞:** he harshly cut the buck, not caring that his hands were getting bloodier than usual.

Toothless sighed, **:⁞** _This is about your life back on Berk, correct?_ **⁞:** Hiccup had told him many stories of his torments and the name calling back on his home island. Usually he would not let his past bother him; he did not see himself as a victim, seeing that some of the torment he provoked himself. However, Toothless could tell that Hiccup was still plagued by his life in that village. When he picked up something that was obviously too heavy, he would not let any of the dragons assist him – not that Ponto could do much good – and snap at them if they insisted. He would later apologize for his behavior, but it happened often enough. That was not to say that Hiccup went from the kindhearted inventor to an ungrateful annoyance, but the boy got frustrated now and then. It was only natural for someone who wanted to lose all traces of his old life; in Hiccup’s case, that meant his burdening weakness.

**:⁞** _No…_ **⁞:** Hiccup whispered. Hiccup himself that he was lying, and he knew for sure that Toothless could tell, but he did not want to admit it to himself. When he left, he wanted to start a new life. However, it seems his idea of a new life is being nothing like how he was on Berk. Some days he just wanted to collapse and let sleep take him for hours on end. Then again, he was living with dragons now, on uninhabited – by humans, at least – islands, with limited luxuries. Although he will never be a dragon, he made it his goal to keep up with them as humanly possible. So far, his absurd but useful training was helping him do just that.

Toothless, knowing when a conversation was over, puffed out smoke from his nostrils in frustration. One day he will get through his stubborn friend, one day.

Hiccup finished cleaning out the buck and threw the pelt onto the growing pile. Now he had to bring it to his usual ‘cooking station’, as he called it, to start roasting it. Wrapping the buck’s carcass in a cleaned and tanned pelt, strapped it to his back, and climbed down the tree, taking a sack on his way down. He looked up at the neighboring tree to wave to the lounging Night Fury then to the Nightmare.

Hiccup silently walked through the forest, not making a sound, and grabbing different fruits and vegetables as he passed them and stuffing them into his sack. After a good half hour, he cave to a stone wall, one that looked like it was just part of the continuous wall of the narrow mountain in the middle of the island. But Hiccup knew better.

This particular part of the wall seemed to be covered in vines. However, thanks to a very embarrassing incident, Hiccup knew that the vines covered but an entrance to a secret cove. He walked through, moving the vines aside, and into a cove with a waterfall and a running stream. He strolled over to a contraption he had roughly made to cook his meat. Unlike a normal spit, this one was attached to a wheel (made very crudely from chopped wood and held together but bashed in spikes from Arilla) by a thin vine cord. It was out of the water at the moment, but when settled into the water, the stream would move the wheel, making the wheel spin the vine, and in turn spin the rod of the spit, rotating the meat.

Hiccup rested his burden on the floor, unwrapped the carcass, and began to set it on the spit. With the buck perfectly settled, Hiccup took the wheel and placed it properly in the stream, starting the rotating process. He took to starting the fire in the prepared pit before sitting back to take out the food he collected on his way there. Also from out of the sack, Hiccup produced a small bowl and a carved down stick, and began to mash and mix the fruits and vegetables, adding water when needed. When satisfied, Hiccup set his new mixture aside and stood to undress.

He loved the privacy of the cove – and the island – for he was able to bathe himself in peace and without feeling self-conscious.  Walking into the shallow stream, Hiccup made his way to the waterfall. He stood under the water for ten minutes before deciding he was done for the day. Before he could walk out of the water, Hiccup looked down and caught his reflection.

This was a funny thing about his time away from Berk. He promised himself he was going to change, that he was not going to be that burden of a thirteen year old. He did not even want to think back to his time back on Berk because he believed he would either start doubting his skills or doubting his decision to leave. He loved living out here, free of responsibilities beyond survival, free of ridicule, free of his own limitations. He got to do what he wanted here and not be judged (except by Arilla, but she judged them all for trivial things). He got to make friends with beings that accepted him for his strengths and his faults. He learned to accept who he was and who he was becoming.

Yet he could not even look at his own reflection because he believed he would be reminded of ‘Hiccup the Useless’; that his reflection would show that he had not changed, he was still the same. Yeah well, that was not what he was seeing.

He could barely recognize the young man in the water. He was near the calmer section of the stream and could get a clear enough picture. It was not perfect but the differences did not need to be clear to be noticeable. His hair was longer, much longer, just above his shoulders. His skin was not as pale as it was when he lived in the cloudier lands up north. That surprised him since he was sure he was only some miles off the coast of the Anglo-Saxon lands. His face was not as round but he could not make out more than that. And he was taller; not by much but enough to notice, he guessed. The most dramatic of changes had to be his physique. Never had Hiccup looked so…not stick like. He had filled out, gaining toned muscle on his arms, legs, and torso. They were not as prominent as those of a Viking, but definitely of an agile warrior.

Hiccup liked. Hiccup liked very much.

Though he liked his new look, Hiccup reached out to the edge of the stream for his dagger that lay with his clothes, and began to slice away at some of his hair. He guessed he never noticed before, but now that he could clearly see it, his hair was starting to cover his face. So he cut away at the hair in the front to mimic his previous bangs. Satisfied, he tossed the dagger away and looked back into the water for a second look. He looked at the green eyes in his reflection and that strange dream came to mind.

In the six months since he left Berk and lived in the wilderness, Hiccup continued to have that dream about that woman and child. He could not, for the life of him, wonder why he did. Did he enjoy the relationship between the two and could not help but dream of them nightly? Did he admire the woman’s beauty so much as to dream of her night and night again? Were the gods trying to tell him something?

He did not know. Nevertheless, he could not say he minded very much. Who would with that beautiful voice and those enchanting eyes. He just wished she were real.

**_~*~ Safety  and Peace~*~_ **

Stone slides against metal with pressure, throwing off a spark. A dark-skinned hand runs the stone against the sword’s edge again. The hand continues to repeat the motion, filling in the silence of the small room. Only a few candles light up the room to a reasonable brightness. The owner of the hand lifts the sword to inspect it. It lightly runs a finger down the edge, pulling back to see a trail of blood flow swiftly down. A smirk appears in the weak light shining on the figure’s face. It goes back to sharpening the blade.

A tall man of fair skin and dark hair opens the door to the room, standing in the light of the lit hall. He stands with his hands held together behind him, back straight, and with a blank expression. General Cassius has barely changed in the months that have passed. He has not grown taller, his hair – being regularly trimmed – is still the same short length, and his body still as fit since the day he become a general.

“Uzuri?” he calls out into the room. In the past six months, he made it his mission to connect with his daughter. Since her mother died, she refused to listen to anyone. She was still young, but since she had started her blood cycle, she could also be seen as a woman. In addition, with her defiant nature, the lowly men of Rome would take advantage of her lack of a guardian, and try to use her for their own needs. Cassius had spoken up and claimed his daughter, despite the feelings of his people. They viewed people of Ziraili’s kind as vile and a waste to the world. So it was not a surprise that Uzuri was not viewed any better than her mother even with the Roman General as her father. Nevertheless, Cassius was driven to change these thoughts, have his people see the potential in his daughter.

Like her mother, Uzuri was strong-willed. She did not show weakness even in her worst moments – aside from the moment her mother died. She also did not back from a challenge if it was reasonable. So he took her in and trained her in combat. Reluctant at first to listen to her bastardly father, Uzuri accepted her new fate with determination. She would show her father that she was worth every second he spent on her. She would train to the best of her abilities and come out on top every time. She was not going to admit defeat and succumb to the hands of the Romans (she refused to admit she herself was a Roman due to her bloodline).

The figure in the room set the stone beside it and stood. There stood Uzuri herself, taller, with hair the length of the average man’s, and scars riddled randomly along her skin. Dressed in battle armor of the rare female gladiator; an armor piece that fit tightly around her torso like a metal corset, straps that hung off her shoulders, a fabric skirt that ran down to mid-thigh, and leather bands wrapped around her wrists. Her sandals reached up to just below her knee, and a metal band clutched her left bicep. She slipped her sword into the scabbard at her waist with a sharp _snikt_.

Cassius smiles at the sight of her, “It’s time…yet again.” He declares. Without sparing her father a glance, she slips past him and continues to walk down the hall, her footsteps almost silent. Cassius follows her. They make their way in this manner, Uzuri in front, Cassius proudly behind. They come to a gate and Uzuri stands silently in front of it. Cassius stands beside her, in the same position he held at the entrance to her room.

“Now remember, Uzuri. Do not let your guard down. Your opponent will most likely underestim…” Cassius continued to coach Uzuri as she drifted off in thought. When she woke to find that her mother truly did pass, all those months ago, Uzuri’s heart broke. All she had in this world was her mother. Now she was gone and Uzuri had felt lost. Now she only lived for herself; no one else’s welfare mattered to her. She was all the responsibility she had and needed. She did not care for the other prisoners, for the guards, or even the man who called himself her father. So she was surprised when not a week later, he claimed that she was his daughter and deserved to live in his residence. Against her will, she was taken to live with him.

He gave her a room, clothes, and real food. However, he only really gave her the time of day when he wanted to train her. She really did not want to, being against violence. Then she thought back to her mother and how she was violently beaten and whipped, all because she was headstrong but not physically strong enough to defend herself. Uzuri did not want to end up like her mother and accepted. The past six months was spent training and fighting in the arena to answer to challenges made for her right to live under her father’s protection. If she won, the challenger was forever silenced, and she was not killed or thrown off to join the prisoners once again. This way of life made her, not violent in nature, but cold hearted at times. Every night she would lie awake wondering why she did not just accept her fate as a prisoner and leave the battles to the brutes. Her answer was always the same: she lived for herself now, and Uzuri did not want the life of a lowly prisoner.

She was brought out of her thoughts by a hand on her shoulder.

“You will win, Uzuri.” Cassius stated with confidence, not doubting his words for a second. Taking a deep breath, Uzuri straightened her back and answered.

“Yes father.”

The gate opened to the cheering of a large crowd.

**_Ní dhéanfaidh aon ní fíor, tá gach rud ceadaithe._ **

_“Only a mind free of impediments is capable of grasping the chaotic beauty of the world. This is our greatest asset." –_ Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Not italicized." = Translated speak  
> "Italicized." = Not translated speak  
> :⁞Italicized.⁞: = Dragonese/Dragonspeak/Dragon Tongue/etc.
> 
> Originally Posted: March 6, 2013  
> Recently Revised: January 22, 2015


	7. Troubles At Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creed Language: Dutch

_**Wij zweren bij de vlammen van de eer om onze bladen te blijven van de onschuldigen.** _  
_**Wij zweren bij de waterval van een lang leven om nooit verraden de Orde.** _  
_**Geen schepsel wordt achtergelaten. Geen ziel wordt vergeten.** _  
_**Wij werken in de nacht naar het licht te dienen.** _  
_**Wij zweven boven het land om het leven hierna te beschermen.** _  
_**Wij zijn door de mens. Wij zijn beest.** _  
_**Wij zijn Drakenrijders.** _

Chaos.

That was the best way to describe this particular evening on Berk. It was yet another dragon raid, the second that month. Vikings were running here and there, rushing to either take down a dragon or help another Viking in need. Bolas flew through the air, snaring some dragons and missing others. The flapping of strong wings and the battle cries of humans filled the nonexistent silence.

To the right of the village, Vikings swung their axes and hammers, trying to take down a dragon or two. To the left of the village, more Vikings chased after dragons that made for their livestock. In the center, an all-out battle ensued.

Leading the charge was Stoick the Vast, fearlessly grabbing the dragons and throwing them into nets like mere fish. To him, these beasts were nothing but an annoyance. They were the cause of his village’s hundreds of years of suffering. They were the cause of his beloved wife’s death. They were the ones to drive his son off the island, away from his home. They were nothing.

With a roar, Stoick swung his hammer at the head of a Nadder, making it stagger. With another swing, it fell to the floor and another Viking came to throw a net over it. It growled, its eyes snapping from one Viking to the other. It spotted another Nadder in the distance and started to squirm, readying a roar of its own. With a sneer, Stoick brought his hammer down, silencing the Nadder before it could get the chance.

Somewhere near the docks, the Thorston twins worked together to take down a Gronckle. It was coming down for a dive to grab a sheep, when the twins lunged with wild battle cries. They threw a net over the rotund reptile, causing it to lose balance and use of its wings. It tumbled to the floor, rolling a few yards before coming to a stop next to a house. The twins cheered in their triumph.

After their short celebration, one of them had to serve the killing blow. Ruffnut was quick to decide she would get the honor. Tuffnut agreed with her for a second…before turning back and pushing her out of the way, declaring he was the man, he would kill the dragon. Within seconds, the twins went from working together to their usual scuffle. The captured Gronckle was spotted from up above by another dragon, who decided to go for a dive and grab both a stray sheep and its downed friend, all in one swoop.

Near the home of Mulch and Bucket, the young Jorgensen was swinging a hammer at a roaming Terror. It kept trying to dive in to grab one of the chickens. Snotlout was not going to let it. The Terror shrieked as the waving hammer missed it by just a few inches. Snotlout swung his hammer again, aiming right for the Terror’s wing. It shrieked again and Snotlout smirked in satisfaction. Wait until Astrid hears about this! What Snotlout was not aware of was the flock of Terrible Terrors banking around the mountaintops of Berk. When they heard the cry of pain from one of their own, they made to attack.

Like a cloud of terror, they descended on Snotlout, letting out shrieks that combined to sound like a tremendous roar. Snotlout turned to see the flock of Terrors, the wounded Terror whining as it tried to fly out of the way. In a state of panic, Snotlout began swinging his hammer like a madman, hoping to hit at least enough to get them off his back and off the island. In their desire to attack the young Viking, the Terrors completely forgot about the chickens and continued to dive at Snotlout.

In the plaza in front of the Mead Hall, well...there was a Zippleback. It maneuvered between the houses, searching high and low...simultaneously. It whipped its heads from left to right, trying to catch a glimpse of its target, sometimes tangling itself. With footsteps as quiet as that of an insect, the Zippleback crept up a flaming house. It kept its head over the edges but out of sight. When it looked around the back of the house, it glanced down to see a quivering ball of blonde Viking.

Fishlegs held his axe to his chest, shaking with fear as he looked around for the Zippleback that seemed to be out to get him. He knew that according to Viking society and the specific traditions of his tribe, that he was expected to fight in the raids now that he had graduated from Dragon Training alongside his peers. However, he was still the same Fishlegs from the start of his dragon-killing journey. He believed, along with his people, that dragons are violent and dangerous creatures that would stop at nothing to kill humans. He might be fascinated with the winged beasts, but they brought absolute terror to his heart. The adults might believe him ready to fight with them against the draconic threat, but his trembling hands thought otherwise. He was no fighter. He was definitely not a killer. What were they thinking when they shoved an axe in his hands and pushed him out into the fray?  
  
With a deep breath, Fishlegs looked around once again only to freeze. To his right was a head of a Zippleback, just staring at him as it slowly began opening its mouth, a greenish gas leaking out. Trying not to scream, Fishlegs discretely turned his head to the left. He was going to make a run for it, speed off as fast as his legs could take him. Only, to his left was the second head of the reptile, and it was already throwing sparks from its mouth. Slowly turning his head so that it was facing neither head, Fishlegs took yet another breath…before screaming as he took off, running faster than anyone would believe him capable of. The Zippleback heads looked to each other, appeared to shrug, and then took after the plump blonde teenager.

Astrid looked up to the burning home of her neighbors, spotting a dragon she has never seen before ripping away at the roof of it. It resembled a Monstrous Nightmare but with four legs instead of claws on the ends of its wings. There was a long appendage slithering out of its mouth, twisting and turning as it ripped at the roof along with its claws. Astrid glanced around for a way to reach the dragon on the roof and noticed a stack of barrels next to the wall of the house. Gripping her axe tightly in her hand, Astrid charged for the stack and hopped up the barrels one after the other. When she reached the highest one, she jumped up as high as her legs could get her and grabbed hold of the roof’s ledge with her free hand. The dragon hesitated in its digging and its head snapped up in attention. Astrid did not waste time waiting for the dragon to turn its attention back to the roof. She hauled herself onto the roof, steadied her stance, and managed a good hold on her axe. She was going to kill herself a dragon.

With a battle cry worthy of a Viking, Astrid charged the dragon, her axe raised above her head. The dragon turned to her, taken by surprise. Nevertheless, it was quick to notice the threat and snarled in outrage. How dare that human sneak up on it! As Astrid reached the dragon, she brought her axe down, only for it to hit solid wood. The dragon had dodged her strike.

Astrid tugged on her axe, trying to pull it loose, when she caught sight of a large pink blur out of the corner of her eye. Reacting in that same second, she leaned back as far as her back allowed, a long pink object speeding by where her chest was merely seconds ago. Before she could identify what it was, it had passed by her again, disappearing as fast as it appeared. Turning to look to her side, she saw the dragon pulling the tip of the pink object back into its mouth.

Was that…its tongue?

She noticed that the dragon appeared to be readying itself for a second strike and she was quick to act. She took a firm hold of her axe and spun around. As she spun, she simultaneously pulled at the axe. Just as the dragon’s tongue shot out of its fanged snout, the axe ripped out of the wood and Astrid swung up and over, bringing the axe down as she leaned out of harm’s way.

A shriek of pain sounded into the night sky.

Astrid stared with disgust at the slithering muscle on the ground, wondering in the back of her mind why it could still move. Turning away from the disturbing sight, she glared at the dragon that dared attack her. This was her land; it had no right.

 It was pawing at its mouth, splattering the blood across the rooftop. When it heard the sound of Astrid’s axe being lifted up with a sharp whistle of air, it decided to forget about its severed tongue to take revenge on the human who severed it. The dragon bared its teeth, growling harshly, with blood leaking out from between its fangs. With a smirk, Astrid threw her axe with a mighty grunt.

The dragon swatted it away, only two claws being sliced off in the process. Astrid narrowed her eyes. This was going to be tricky. She reached for her waist, pulling two long daggers out of the sheaths strapped onto her skirt. She crouched down, preparing to charge forward to hopefully strike the killing blow. The dragon watched her get into position and got into a defensive stance.

With another battle cry, Astrid ran towards her target. The dragon made to breathe fire at her but Astrid was quick to bring her right blade down on its head. The dagger pierced through the top of its snout, snapping its mouth shut. The dragon gave a pain-filled growl and got ready to bring a claw up to slice her up. However, Astrid flipped the dagger in her left hand’s hold, the sharp tip now facing the ground in her grip. She swung her left arm over the dragon’s head and up to her right shoulder. With a yell, she brought if back down onto the dragon’s head, stabbing it through the eye.

She did not stop there. She tugged it back out and brought it down a few more times. The dragon was dead by the fourth but she stabbed it at least five more times after that. When she was satisfied with her release of rage, she pulled both daggers out of the still dragon’s head and stepped back. Looking at the bloody mess that was the unfamiliar breed of dragon, Astrid could feel nothing but satisfaction.

She had participated in a practice her people have taken part in for hundreds of years. In the many raids that occurred in the past six months, she had only succeeded in harming dragons, only for them to escape before she could deal a fatal blow. It irritated her to no end. Especially after the Ring Incident, as many villagers liked to call it.

It was a tragic day when the village discovered that their captive dragons had escaped and apparently taken Hiccup with them. To the village, they had lost a Viking prodigy that day. To the other teens, they had lost an interesting comrade. To Chief Stoick, he had lost his only son and child. To Astrid, she was rid of her burden.

At least, that was her view of the incident for the first few weeks. Before Dragon Training, she was viewed as the prodigy of the village. The top student even before their classes ever started. Then Hiccup improved and took the lime light from her, making the village kick her to the curb. It was humiliating. Then he had to go and best her on their final test, taking down the Gronckle and gaining the privilege of killing his first dragon. She just finally killed her first just tonight. All because the dragons from the ring had escaped, taking the village's pride and joy with them.  
  
For those first few weeks after Hiccup's disappearance and the dragons' escape, Astrid was ready to take back the attention. Before Dragon Training, she had not paid it much thought and had taken the attention for granted. It was not until she was losing it that she wanted it back. With Hiccup gone, she was certain it was going to start up again; that the attention would turn back to her. She was wrong. All the tribe cared about was finding Hiccup and figuring out how the dragons had gotten out of their pens without force. She loathed the fact that they cared so much for the runt of the village. Hiccup was deceiving them, using tricks in the ring to get them on his side! Why could they not see that?!  
  
Then the first month went by. The searching parties gave up, the teens started to lose interest, Stoick began to close in on himself. Most would have expected him to order for a new search every week if not every day, but he was the one who called them off. Astrid suspected that there was something going on; information about Hiccup's sudden disappearance that their chief refused to share. She would often see him pull a sheet of parchment from his pocket and stare at it for long periods, quickly hiding it when someone looked his way. At least, he thought no one saw it. Astrid knew that paper had something to do with Hiccup and either where he is or why he was gone. Maybe he left and used the dragons as a way to cover his true intentions.

Was he too scared to face a Monstrous Nightmare but did not want it to be so obvious that he was not the warrior they thought he was? Did he realize that the attention he was getting was not what he expected so he left to escape it? No one knows. However, that paper held the truth, or as close to the truth as Astrid was ever going to get.  
  
Taking a few breaths, Astrid evaluated the damage done to Berk. It was not as bad as they used to get, despite having more dragons and newer breeds. Dragons they have only heard of and that villagers have rarely seen were showing up and joining in the raid of their island. It was a little alarming, but they were Vikings; they would just fight back that much harder. Nevertheless, it helped that Hiccup was not around to cause trouble. They have lost less livestock than usual without the resident klutz present to knock down a torch or two. It was a relief but seemed to remind them that one of their own had perished, whether they knew that to be true or not.  
  
Seeing that the raid had passed, Astrid put away her daggers and turned to go get her axe. It was time to take a breather and find out the extent of the damage aside from what was visual.  
  
**_~*~ Safety  and Peace~*~_**  
  
"Did you guys see me? I was a beast! Terrors coming at me from all angles! And there I was, with nothing but a hammer and my own two hands...I swung and I bashed! They didn't have a chance!" Snotlout boasted, holding a chicken thigh above his head, like he was going to bring it down on a nonexistent dragon. The smug look on his face was nothing but irritating to Astrid, especially since it seemed the Terrors left more of a mark on him than he thought he did them. His face was covered in scratches, and his helmet had a few scorch marks. Proof that the littlest beasts were merely playing with him. A Terrible Terror is known for its accuracy in aim. If it wanted to hit you with its fiery breath, it was going to hit you with its fiery breath. It was one of the best, never missing; its skill only rivaled by that of a Night Fury. Then there was the cloud of Terrors that flew off. If Snotlout wanted to boast about his skill, he had to be sure no one noticed his targets got away, unlike what his story suggested. Overall, the boy was just being ridiculous.  
  
"Oh yeah? Well we took down a Gronckle...in one go!" Tuffnut boasted right back, sporting a similar smug expression. Ruffnut snorted and took the opportunity to punch her brother in the gut.  
  
"But we lost it because of you. All I needed was one shot and the thing would have been dead. But you couldn't let me get the shot, could you." Ruffnut blamed, taking a drink of mead from her mug. Tuffnut huffed and elbowed his sister in the side, making her spit out her mead.  
  
"Who said you had to take the shot? What if I wanted to kill the Gronckle?" Instead of getting an answer, Tuffnut received another punch to the gut, then an elbow to the jaw, followed by a tug of his hair. The twins then proceeded to fall off the bench and tussle on the ground of the Mead Hall.  
  
Astrid rolled her eyes, wondering why she spent so much time in the presence of these fools. Then she remembered, they were the only ones close to her age. The only other age groups were adults and young children, which left either individuals who would treat them like children themselves or mini-individuals that did not understand them. They were sadly stuck relying on each other for entertainment.  
  
"Wish Useless was here though...Then I could show him how much better I am than him," Snotlout voiced out, rubbing the back of his hand against his nose, "Then I'd show him that even though he did so good in Dragon Training, only real Vikings know how to fight on the field." He turned on the bench, leaning back on the table with his arm resting on it and the other hand bringing the chicken thigh to his mouth for a quick big bite. Fishlegs sat across from him, rubbing his hands together under the table. He did not speak a word.

“And you’re a real Viking?” Astrid spoke up, now sharpening her axe with a wet stone on top of the table. She did not look up from her task as she expressed her thoughts, “Although I’m not fond of his achievement in Dragon Training, I doubt you’d be the better Viking in a real raid. After all, he did better than you in the ring…and with only his _two hands_.” She took great satisfaction in herself when the boy quickly turned around in his seat, slamming a fist on the table.

“What do you know?!” Snotlout countered, not liking the idea that someone still thought his useless cousin was better than he was when Useless was the one to get taken. Then he did a double-take, remembering exactly who he was speaking to, “I mean…you don’t know that! He could have fallen under the pressure of a battlefield of dragons, probably wouldn’t have been able to handle them unless he took them on one-on-one,” now certain that he corrected his rude behavior at his crush with his less harsh statement, he continued on to boost, “But I did, and I’m still alive with a handful of dragon kills on me.” he leaned back into the table again, the smug expression now back.

Fishlegs looked to Astrid to see her scoff, ignoring the Jorgenson to complete her task. He wrung his hands again, not sure what to do or say. He was still shaken up by the chase with the Zippleback. He still wondered how he made it out of that situation. He likes to think it let him go because the other dragons were retreating, but a small part of him was certain it was because the Zippleback was bored with its prey. Adding to that, Snotlout bringing up Hiccup only seemed to make him more nervous.

In the last six months, all he could think about was how a group of four dragons (five, if one wanted to count the Terror) captured Hiccup. His disappearance was discovered quite early in the morning, not long after the break of dawn. Moreover, for him to go to the Kill Ring and have five dragons _somehow_ get out of their pens without struggle and not make a sound? Would Hiccup not have screamed or a dragon roared? None of the facts made sense, but it was the only logical explanation without more information to go on.

“Don’t you guys ever wonder what happened to him?” Fishlegs murmured, not expecting the others to hear. But they did.

“Taken by the dragons that escaped. Probably dead now. Everyone knows that already, Fish.” Ruffnut – now up and sitting from her fight with her brother – answered in a tone that implied that what she said was obvious. To most of the villagers, it was. To someone of Fishlegs’ intelligence, and to someone who knew of an unspoken piece to the puzzle like Astrid, it was not.

“But it doesn’t make sense! How in the world did five dragons escape without force out of pens that could only be opened from the outside?! How in the world did Hiccup wake up to go to the dragons’ pens, get captured, and not one person heard someone scream in panic or for help?! The village has some deep sleepers, but no one would be able to sleep through a dragon attack. There was no proof of any struggle or…anything! They just all disappeared!” Fishlegs was now biting his nails, breathing harshly. It became a habit ever since that day. The thought that dragons could be smart enough to escape thought to be inescapable pens and also quietly kidnap one of their own? It was terrifying!

“Then maybe Useless was just stupid enough to try and take them all at once and let them out. And being the worthless baby he is, he was probably too scared to scream. I’m surprised they didn’t find a piss puddle!” Snotlout laughed, Tuffnut and Ruffnut joining in. Fishlegs and Astrid did not find the theory as funny, but neither did they find it ridiculous. They looked to each other, seeming to communicate through expression. Despite the joking tone and the insulting statements, what if that was _exactly_ what happened?

“Alright yeh three! That’ll be enough! The lad’s dead! Lost his life while the rest of his village was asleep, not aware that one of their own was being taken! Instead of insultin’ his memory, why don’t yeh go to bed and wonder what yeh could have done to keep him with us. Odin knows he wouldn’t be blabberin’ behind yeh backs like this if it was the other way around. Now, off with yeh!” Gobber demanded, wanting the teens out of his sight now that he discovered what they were discussing. He had overheard them from across the Mead Hall and came to see what they were all gossiping about. Only to witness the insulting of a dead man’s memory, by ones who once considered him a friend.

With a frustrated Gobber watching, the teens all abandoned their meals to stand stiffly, leaving the Mead Hall in embarrassment: more embarrassment in the case of the three. Astrid scoffed at Snotlout as she passed him, making her way to her home, ashamed of her so-called friend. She always knew there was a reason why she hated him. At least she gave up her selfish desires in turn for respecting a dead man’s memory.

Fishlegs just watched as Astrid turned left to go home, and the others turned right to their homes. He stood outside of the Mead Hall and turned to look up at the sky. The pieces of Hiccup’s disappearance just did not add up. Fishlegs could not really explain it, but he had a feeling the story of what really happened would never be figured out until it was personally presented to them by an eyewitness or Hiccup himself. Fishlegs looked back into the Mead Hall through the still opened doors.

He could see Stoick, his chief, sitting alone at a table in the far back of the hall. He was looking at the sheet of paper again that most did not notice but Fishlegs did. He swore that he could see a longing look in his chief’s eyes everytime Stoick took out that paper. Fishlegs guessed it had something to do with the true story behind Hiccup’s disappearance, but it could just be something Hiccup had written one day and Stoick kept it with him as a reminder. Either way, it had something to do with Hiccup. In addition, it was bringing out more emotion in the chief than Fishlegs has seen in years.

Deep down, Stoick missed his son like nothing else.

  
**_~*~ Safety  and Peace~*~_**

  
The hall was silent aside from the scraping of a brush against the floor. Sitting in the middle of an empty, long, and wide hallway was a girl of about fifteen years of age. She was on her knees, scrubbing away at the almost pristine floors. Her clothes, though just rags of an old dress, were as clean as she could possibly get them. She would not forgive herself if her own clothes kept her from finishing the job.

With a sigh, the girl reached up to swipe aside her long black bangs. She was never allowed the use of a knife for long enough to cut her hair, let alone get the eyes of her masters off her to get the chance. When given the use of potentially harmful tools or chemicals, there were always eyes on her. Which was why her hair reached down her back and to her waist. Black, long, and a tangled mess; she wasn't a fan of her hair.

When she brushed against her cheek a little too roughly, she winced, as the movement irritated the cut on her soft skin. Although she was not allowed the privilege of having sharp tools in her possession, there were others who did. Others who took advantage of the tools instead of using them for the proper tasks.  
  
Hearing footsteps coming in the distance, the girl got back to work, scrubbing twice as hard at the last square foot of floor needed to be cleaned today. She dipped the brush into the bucket full of water at her side, getting it just soaked enough before pulling it back out and putting the brush back to the floor, scrubbing once again.  
  
The sound of the footsteps grew louder as two small children came around a corner, running as they giggled along. The young Lord James followed closely behind the young Miss Emily as they made quick work of the distance between the corner and the teenage girl on the floor. The girl started to smile fondly at the adorable children until she spotted the trail they left behind.  
  
Mud.  
  
Holding back a scream, the teenager sat back on her legs, watching as her recently cleaned floors became a muddy mess. Hours. She had spent hours scrubbing at these floors to make them perfect. She was not a perfectionist, but her master's woman was and she would not stand for anything less. Now this meant she would be on her knees for hours more as she scrubbed away at the muddy trail until the floor was as pristine as the rest of the manor. She was already held up into the late morning awake because her master did not believe the silverware was shining enough. Then her master’s woman had woken her up early in the morning, telling her that her new chore for the day was to scrub every floor of the manor. Twice.

She could not help but tear-up a bit.

It was young James who noticed out of the corner of his eye the look on the teenage girl’s face. He turned to see her staring at the mud he and his little sister left behind. Seeing the tears welling up in her eyes, he automatically felt bad for what they had done. She was a very sweet girl who did nothing but smile at the two of them even through the obvious pain his parents put her through.

“Marietta..?” he called out, his sister stopping at the sound of his voice. Emily looked back to see her family’s maid down on her knees, looking solemnly at the trail that she and James made all the way down the hall.

The teenager, Marietta, slowly turned to look into the eyes of the eldest of the Bennett children. The young James had always had a soft spot for her no matter what his parents said of her in front of him – most of those rumors spread by Lady Bennett herself. He was told to treat her how she deserved; like a maid that was paid in scraps to stay alive, like a slave. James was too rebellious to blindly follow his parents’ words, even at his age. Marietta adored him for it.

“We’re sorry, Marietta. We didn’t mean to…” James apologized. Little Emily stood aside her brother, nodding.

“Yeah…we sorry, Marita.” She mumbled. Her mother always told her how only the most beautiful of women were allowed the rewards that she and mother owned and occasionally received. Lady Bennett told her that Marietta was nothing but an ugly work girl and so she did not deserve the luxuries her family enjoyed. This was where Emily was confused. She always believed Marietta to be very pretty, even when dressed in dirty clothes and with smudges on her face. Marietta was very beautiful.

“Children!” a crude feminine voice called out sharply. The two kids turned to the owner of the voice while Marietta turned to look down at the ground. Eye contact always resulted in harsh punishment.

A woman dressed in very regal wear stood only several yards away, standing straight and proud. She had her hands laying over her mid-section, her little finger twitching in irritation. She stayed as far away from the mud trail as possible, to keep her long floor length gown out of _harm’s_ way. Her flared over-sleeves and long under-sleeves hide most of her skin from view, with pearl white gloves covering her hands to complete the look. Her gold waist belt emphasized her thin figure while the pearls around her neck gave her a very sophisticated look. Her strange half-up/half-down hair-do gave her an extra few inches for height while also displaying her also waist length golden blonde hair. Lady Bennett’s hazel green eyes bore into Marietta’s as she spoke to the children, “There is no need for apology. The girl knows her place, and that is on her knees and finishing her chores. Go on, and do not let me find you conversing with the help again.”

“Yes Mother.” James replies, taking his sister’s hand and pulling her along. He looked back to Marietta with an apologetic glance before continuing on to their rooms. Marietta did not see the expression, still staring down at the ground but now wringing her hands, worried about what Lady Bennett would do to her.

“You will clean these halls once more. I want to see my reflection in the tile as I walk. You have until sundown to complete my demands or you will be punished. Do I make myself clear, girl?” Lady Bennett ordered as she stood before the fifteen year old on the ground. Without thinking, Marietta’s head snaps up to complain.

“But my Lady, it took me almost the whole morning just to scrub it down once! I couldn’t possibly finish bef–”

“Insolent wench!” Marietta leans away as a hand comes flying to make an impact with her already sore cheek. Her eyes scrunch closed as she awaits the sharp pain of the Lady’s quick hand.

It never came.

Marietta opened her eyes to see Lady Bennett’s hand only inches away from her face, with another hand holding it from touching her. She looked up to see Lord Bennett holding his wife’s wrist in a firm grip. The Lady herself is shocked that her hand was stilled.

“Richard..?” she says in disbelief.

“Astoria, my love. Do not waste your energy on this girl. You will only hurt your precious hand,” he brought his wife’s hand up to his lips for a peck. His dark brown hair fell out of its carefully slicked back style and into his eyes. He looked up at his wife with brown eyes twinkling in the fire light of the equally spaced torches along the hallway’s walls, “Go on, my dear. I have called for a warm bath to be prepared for you. I will deal with this…girl.” He looks down at Marietta and she turns away.

“Why, thank you, Richard darling. A warm bath sounds lovely.” Astoria sent him a warm smile before turning her cold eyes to Marietta as she walks away, picking up her skirt as she maneuvered around the muddy floors. Richard stood as he watched her go before turning his attention back on Marietta.

“Stand, girl,” is all he says and Marietta is quick to get up off her knees. She did not look up from her trembling hands. Richard stepped up closer and grabbed Marietta’s chin. As he lifted her head to make her look him in the eye, he stared at her body. He looked her up and down slowly, taking in every inch of visible skin, every layer of loose fabric, every curve of young teenage girl. A smirk played at his lips. He stared at her chest as he spoke, “But you are not a little girl any more…are you?” he looked back up to her eyes, that arrogant smirk still a part of his perverted expression. Marietta shivered, but not in pleasure. Richard dropped his hand from her chin and took a step back, “Get to work.” He walked off after his wife, hands behind his back, back straight with arrogance.

Marietta was shocked and did not immediately begin to work. However, when Lord Bennett looked over his shoulder at her with hungry eyes, Marietta dropped to her knees to start scrubbing away at the mud left behind by the children. She did not dare look up.

When the footsteps disappeared and Lord Bennett was no longer in view or even in earshot, Marietta’s quick moving hands slacked. With a sob, she brought her hand to cover her mouth to stop any more from escaping. She sat back on her legs before bringing her legs out from under her and scooting to sit against a wall. She brought her knees up to her chest as tears fell, remembering what that pig of a man had done to her not a week earlier. She remembers it like it was yesterday, with her sobbing as he forced himself upon her. She was left sore for days.

Deep crystal blue eyes tearfully closed.

 **_Niets is waar. Alles is toegestaan._ ** ****

_"The answer to your question will arise when you no longer need to ask it." – Al Mualim_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creature Credit: Tongue-twister Dragon from HTTYD
> 
> Originally Posted: March 15, 2013  
> Recently Revised: February 10, 2015


	8. Thoughts Astray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creed Language: French

_**Nous jurons par l'Honneur des Flammes de garder notre lame des innocents.** _  
_**Nous jurons par la Fontaine de Jouvence de ne jamais trahir l'Ordre.** _  
_**Aucune créature ne sera délaissé. Aucune âmes ne sera oublié.** _  
_**Nous agissons la nuit pour servir la lumière.** _  
_**Nous nous élevons au-dessus des terres pour protéger les vies d'en dessous** _  
_**Nous sommes hommes. Nous sommes bêtes.** _  
_**Nous sommes les Dragonniers** _

Uzuri was shoved back as her trainer demanded that she attack. That she use her agile form to her advantage. That she use her speed to take him down.  
  
However, she had used the majority of her energy on using her pilum to stab at him. Their spar had gone on too long because she could not adjust to this weapon.  
  
Her father recently decided she needed to be better trained in the use of weapons beyond her shield and gladius. She did not particularly agree but she seemed to have no choice.  
  
In result of that decision, Cassius had Uzuri trained in the use of every weapon in the Roman arsenal. Day after day Uzuri was trained non-stop on different techniques, different methods, and different weapons. Every night she was stripped of her energy, her stamina boiled down to that of a weak child's. Yes her skill in battle was improving, but was it worth it? Being – deep down inside – a non-violent person, she did not believe so.  
  
Sometimes she wondered if her father cared beyond making her the ideal warrior, the ultimate soldier. Did he only see a weapon to sharpen?  
  
Uzuri was, again, shoved back by her trainer. She grits her teeth, wishing she had her gladius. She would gladly run him through at this point. Uzuri was pretty sure the man was only still alive because of her awkward handle of the pilum in her hold.

In a burst of enraged annoyance, Uzuri changed her grip on the pilum and threw it like the spear it was. Her trainer, who had backed away after shoving her, was surprised by the incoming weapon and reacted too late. The pilum’s sharp end connected with his own pilum, close to his hand, making him drop the pilum from the force.

Looking up from his now disarmed hand, he saw a shield heading for his head. He ducked, watching as the shield passed over his head and flew across the room. He had to hand it to the General, he sired quite the powerful daughter.

Seconds later, the man cursed himself for getting distracted by the young woman’s strength. When he turned back to prepare for the next attack, all he saw was a fourteen year old girl running towards him. He could do nothing but suffer what she would do to him.

Dodging to the side and out of the way of his shield, Uzuri grabbed the man around the waist. Using her momentum, Uzuri swung her body around the man’s, her legs swinging up and around until they were before her trainer’s eyes. She wrapped her legs around his upper torso and continued to throw her body around him.

In the seconds of that single rotation down and around the man’s body, he lost his stance and balance, brought down to the floor and on his back. Uzuri was left kneeling on one knee, holding a dagger to her trainer’s throat. She always made sure she had her dagger, battle or not.

“How was that for fast and agile?” she smirked at the dumbfounded expression on her downed opponent’s face.

Uzuri heard clapping behind her and was quick to rise and turn in its direction. There in the walkway of the general’s private training arena, was her father.

He stood in more casual robes then he usually lets most see him in, but still in that stiff posture he was known for. His hair had been recently trimmed, and so was kept as professional as always. Resisting the urge to touch her now just above shoulder-length dark hair, Uzuri remembers when her hair was that short. Her father stops his clapping and holds his hands behind his back once again.

“Impressive performance, Uzuri. Good show of speed, you will need that in battles to come. Your agility is your greatest asset in battle, and so it is exceptional that you seem to be closer to mastering it,” he would not show it, but Cassius was very proud of his daughter. He watched in silent amusement as his compliments seemed to brighten her face, “However, I have never seen a move like that in my all years.”

Uzuri saw this as the perfect opportunity. She could show her father that she was not only skillful but inventive. She was more than a soldier who only stuck to the required. If she could take down the enemy with little force and minor injury, to both parties, she will find a way. She has wanted to share her discoveries and developments with her father but was always too cautious; and for good reason.

“It was something I came up with on my own. With all the trouble I was having with the constant change of weapons and techniques, I decided that I would need a way of taking down the enemy if I start to lose the battle. Once I have my target in my rotation, it becomes difficult for them to disengage from my hold. And by the time they realize this, they are on their back with a dagger through their throats. There are still some flaws for I must first get them in the hold, but I am sure that –”

“Stop.”

Uzuri holds her breath, looking back into her father’s eyes. Since they are emotionless, she cannot tell if he is impressed, angered, or just not in the mood for mindless blabber from a young recruit that believes she can show the _general_ of the _Roman Army_ battle strategies. Uzuri catches herself before she can bite her lower lip in nervousness. Her father once told her that it was unfit for a warrior to be nervous, let alone display their anxiety for all to see. She straightens her posture, hands against her sides. She tries not to look at her feet in shame and instead keeps her eyes on her father.

“That way of fighting is not the way of the Roman soldier. You will stick to what you have and will be taught in your lessons. Anything else is a disgrace of your Roman blood. If you plan on being the superior warrior in battle, you will not stoop down to the methods of the inferior. You will cease this _child’s play_ and I expect you to fight like the Roman you are tomorrow.” He demands in the same tone he uses when he speaks to his soldiers. He must be hard on her if she is ever to learn.

Uzuri swallows the lump in her throat. So it was the last two, anger and _not in the mood_. She tries to play it as amusing in her mind but cannot seem to get around the fact that her father did not take her seriously. He did not believe she needed to _think_ , only act. She was a Roman soldier and he did not believe she was acting like one. What he did not understand, was that everything a Roman soldier was…she was not.

“You are dismissed.” Cassius ordered, watching as she walked away. He tried to remain serious and uncaring, but the defeated look in her eye made him question why. This was his daughter, so why could he not treat her as such. He looked back at the trainer who was standing up and gave him a look that told him he was dismissed as well. The trainer nodded and marched out. Cassius watched as both the trainer and Uzuri rounded corners and disappeared out of his sight. The moment they did, he released the breath he had been holding since he took such a stern tone with his daughter.

In the year since her mother had died, Cassius tried to do everything in his power to make sure Uzuri was safe and healthy. He did things differently than he supposed the average parent would, but he meant it all in good stride. This was how he handled things, this was how he was used to dealing with others. He could not adapt to being a caring parent who held their children through tough times, mainly because he did not know how. He was raised the same way Uzuri was now; strictly and with the intention of making a great warrior. He saw the same potential in Uzuri as his father saw in him. However, he could tell there was a significant difference.

Uzuri did not react well to this method of growing up as he did.

Cassius could tell she had the potential to be great, but he could also see the pacifist in her eyes. He could tell she had great determination for goals she set her mind to, but he could see that she had different goals than he. He was trying his best; nevertheless, Uzuri was not the child he was meant to raise. But he _was_ trying. He hoped that one day she would see that.

**_~*~ Safety and Peace~*~_ **

Uzuri slammed the door to her quarters behind her. She leaned back into the door trying to forget this awful day. First, she cannot seem to get a hang of the pilum. Then she is resorted to using a technique she knew was risky from the very first day she developed it. Then her father mocks her new technique and dismisses her as if she were nothing but another soldier to him. The glares from the servants of the dwelling did not help the situation.

It was a painful walk back to her room, mainly because of the glares. She felt like she was getting used to her father’s way of dealing with situations, even if they still stung a little. She could not get over the scowls. They looked at her as if she did not belong; as if even though they were the servants, she was beneath them. Those glares said everything about what they thought of her and her reason for being there in the General’s home.

She walked over to her bed and threw herself on it, wincing a bit at the firmness of the mattress. She grabbed the firm pillow and held it to her chest. She wished she could leave and never turn back. Her father was now her only family, but then again, he was not much of a family. He cared enough to get her out of the cells and under his care, but he could have done that for any soldier he found enough potential in to train under his supervision. She was another soldier to him, not a daughter, not even given the attention of a niece. A soldier.

She wanted to live in a world where she would be seen as a soldier, and as just Uzuri. Where she can be appreciated for both sides of her person. She was a warrior but also kindhearted and caring.

That world seemed impossible here.

Uzuri closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

_Uzuri opened her eyes to a world of colors. Flowers surrounded her with birds and butterflies of all shapes and hues flying around her head, little voices filling her head with sounds of cheer._

_With a smile, Uzuri turned to see two small creatures fluttering through the air, holding between them a woven crown covered in flowers. The creatures were smiling fairies that flew over to her and placed the crown on her head, their little voices complimenting her beauty and how the crown fit her like it was meant to rest upon her head. They bowed down to her in mid-air and she playfully returned the gesture. The fairy on the right, with purple eyes and white hair, motioned to something behind Uzuri with yet another smile._

_Uzuri turned slowly around, the blue and green dress on her flowing with the movement. She looked up from the soft fabric of the dress she did not notice herself wearing before, to see a figure smiling down at her. She could not see the figure clearly, but she could point out one feature that stood out._

_Two forest green eyes._

**_~*~ Safety and Peace~*~_ **

Hiccup wiped at his forehead, not yet as accustomed to the heat of the forge as he used to be. He smiled at the ridiculousness of this situation.

After realizing that he needed to return to human society, even if not his own people, Hiccup had been traveling the Anglo-Saxon lands for a semi-permanent residence. He needed a place to stay that would not only accept him but allow him to stay for as long as he needed. Living with six dragons made this a challenge.

Do not get him wrong, he would never actually show the dragons to the people he wished to stay with, but it was hard to hide them. There were times where he would stop at a village market to purchase supplies, only for the market to be disturbed by an overexcited Terrible Terror. He should have expected it. Ponto was known in the group to be very active and seemingly in lack of self-preservation.

On the bright side of that story, he raided a pirate ship when they left the village and found some very valuable things that could someday come in handy. Some clothes too. He needed those.

Eventually he was able to approach a market without his little follower – five much bigger dragons holding down a Terror greatly helped – and get better fitting clothing. In addition, he was able to test his limited English-speaking skills. It was not until he let his mouth run that he realized he needed some help with it. The now rough tone to his voice made it that much more challenging, including the fact that he had been speaking like a dragon for a whole of six months before actually _speaking_ ; it was tough, let’s leave it at that.

He visited market after market, for both supplies and shelter, but only seemed to succeed when it came to supplies. He and his draconic friends traveled for two months before they finally found a woman who was kind enough to let him take residence. The forest not far behind her home allowed for the dragons to take shelter as close to him as they possibly could.

Her name is Lynnette Thorpe and she was an old woman. She was also a widow that seemed to have lost more than her husband. Her two children were sent to join the crusades, and only one was rumored to now be alive. He believes Lynnette said her name was Maria. Yes, her; Lynnette’s daughter was known for being very stubborn and refusing to be treated as a common woman to be sold to a husband. Now she roams the Holy Land alongside her crusader companions. Lynnette has not heard from her since she left.

However, Lynnette was still very kind despite losing her family. She offered not only a room for him to sleep, but she offered to make him his meals and wash his clothes. It was sweet, but Hiccup assured her that giving him a temporary stable home was good enough and he would forever be grateful. She still assisted though, the stubborn old woman.

Now with a promised home to return to, Hiccup was able to return to that same market for weeks. He became acquaintances with a number of the venders (most would be off on their way soon, he gathered), and became better acquainted with the resident people of the village. Within those weeks, he also learned of a local blacksmith. Hiccup was quick to ask for a place of work – Toothless’ tail needed some improvements.

He was, of course, rejected by the man and decided he would make it his goal to someday work for him, or at the very least be given permission to use the forge.

For the months between his rejection and his acceptance, Hiccup and the dragons would make regular visits to the lands nearby. He would travel to the neighboring lands of Anglo-Saxon England – branching out to Ireland and Scotland – and also France. He would travel with them to Norway and Sweden, sometimes to Denmark. Paratyl – the Nightmare – once encouraged them to travel further and they were able to reach Navarre and Aragon. He took extra care to avoid the Romans.

Although there was much to learn in those lands, he would always return home to Lynnette with hopes of visiting the friends he made in those other lands another day. It was a great learning experience, but Lynnette’s house by the woods felt like home.

Soon after his recent trip, the blacksmith was on the hunt for him. The large Englishman, Thomas, was apparently having some trouble making all the orders demanded by the King. It was the Prince’s birthday and he was asking very much, being very spoiled. Thomas was getting overwhelmed. With Hiccup being the only other in town with even a bit of skill and knowledge of the forge, he was Thomas’s only hope.

So now here Hiccup was, slaving away in front of an unfinished sword, pounding away with arms that seemed to have forgotten how to properly hit the heated metal into shape. On the bright side, he could now very easily lift the hammer and pound the metal. His once bone and skin arms were now toned with muscle, just enough to look like he was meant to be working the forge.

It was too bad that the whole year away from the forge was messing with his skill. He seemed to have lost his way in all these months since his time in Berk. He knew what he needed to do, but his hands did not want to do what his mind remembered. It really frustrated him. Wanting to get his mind off his horrible work, Hiccup dipped the sword in a bucket of water before setting it down and turned to his personal worktable. On the table was his journal, which he had been carrying around since he left Berk.

He picked up his charcoal stick and put the tip to paper. For the past month, he had been planning some weapons he could make for himself. One was a crossbow, which he remembered the Romans used. He once got a hold of one when his village’s ship was attacked by Roman ships. He was travelling along with his father to visit some neighboring villages to make some trades when Roman ships appeared out of nowhere. During the battle, one of the Roman’s lost his weapon in the water and the then young Hiccup reached out for it when it was in his reach. He was not in possession of it for long, only getting a mere glimpse before his father ripped it out of his grasp. Nonetheless, Hiccup was able to remember the basic design of the weapon.

His second design was something all his own. Something lightweight and easily hidden, for hands-free motion. It would not have reach but it would have force and impeccable _aim_. It would be a blade, wrapped to his wrist and hidden until he finds need for it. He had the design almost complete, but he needed to create a way of ejecting the blade, and possibly finding a way to make it so his fingers would not be sliced off when it did eject.

“ _Morning, Hikke._ ” Hiccup turned at the sound of his name. At the shop’s window was a village girl accompanied by her usual guard escort. She stood about an inch shorter than him, yet she was at least a year older. Her long black hair flowed down her back, a great contrast to her pale skin. Although her worn-out clothes and slightly dirt-riddled skin made her out to look like a slave maid, it could not hide her beauty. And beautiful she was, especially because of her bright blue eyes that always seemed to shine when in his presence.

“ _Good Morning, Marietta._ ” Hiccup greeted back, once again mentally thanking Lynnette for helping him perfect his English. He pushed aside his journal and plans to go stand by the window to properly converse, “ _What do the Bennetts need today? Does Lord Bennett want a new sword? A new shield? Did James ruin his saddle again? Either he needs a new horse or an iron saddle._ ” Hiccup joked. The Bennetts always seemed to be asking for more and more things but never used them. The only objects he forged for them that they even used were the saddles for their horses and the jewelry for Lady Bennett. He was glad Thomas taught him how to make those since she always asked for them at least twice a moon cycle. He seemed to always be alone in the forge when those orders were made.

“ _Actually, Lady Bennett is demanding a new waist belt. To add to her large collection. She doesn’t exactly need it, but you know her. Always asking for more than she needs like a spoiled little chi–”_ Hiccup watched in disgust as her escort wacked the back of the girl’s head. She winced as she held her head, rubbing it as she tried to hold back tears of pain. Hiccup’s fists clenched with the urge to defend Marietta, but knew he would only get the whole of the Bennett guard on his tail. He would not stand a chance, especially since he could not let his dragons help and get discovered. They would be hunted until each was so far gone, no one could reach them, or dead.

“ _Do not speak of Lady Astoria with such ill intent._ ” The guard ordered in a threatening tone. Marietta cowered under the man’s glare. Hiccup’s gaze very quickly shifted to the hammer not far off to his right on the counter. He was quick to turn his eyes back to the scene before him. If he kept the hammer in his sight, he would subconsciously reach for it if the guard hurt the girl again. But if he did not look at the hammer, he would probably miss it when he blindly reached out for it and then come back to reality. So he made sure he just kept his eyes on the guard’s hands. He could not hurt him, but Hiccup could surely stop him.

The guard felt like he was being stared at and turned to see forest green fire in the eyes of the blacksmith’s apprentice. He was but a young boy, not even the ignorant girl’s age, possibly younger. Nonetheless, the boy’s glare struck deep inside the guard’s soul. Something about the boy’s eyes suggested that he was more than he appeared to be, and so the guard decided to be smart and not underestimate him. Forgetting about the slave girl, he saw another Bennett Manor guard conversing with a common village girl, “ _I’ll be just over here, girl. Do not let me see you doing anything you would regret._ ” He glared at the teen before walking away, avoiding the boy’s gaze entirely.

Marietta sighed and finally released the tension in her body. Hiccup, who had been following the guard’s movements, turned to chuckle at his friend’s obvious relief, “ _Happy he’s gone?_ ” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. Every day that he was present in the forge, Marietta would come out of the Bennett Manor with her usual escort. They appeared to be protecting her, but he knew better. They were sent to go with her to the village market to keep their eye on her. Hiccup could tell the girl was being abused by Lord and Lady Bennett, it was not hard to figure out from her appearance. She was almost bone thin, her eyes shadowed in depression, her hair and clothes a mess. He did not know the extent of her awful treatment, but he understood that it was bad and Marietta needed help, “ _I’m sorry I didn’t stop him…_ even if I had my reasons.” Hiccup mumbled under his breath in Norse.

Marietta gave a small smile as she tucked her hair behind her ear. She admired Hiccup for his kind nature. He was always apologizing for not being able to help, in fear of the entirety of the Bennett Guard. Marietta did not mind that he could not stop the abuse, as long as he expressed his concern and admitted to wishing he could help, “ _Don’t be. I should not have said such harsh words about my Lady. She is not the kindest, but she offers a home and daily meals._ ” Marietta made sure not to mention that her ‘home’ was a pillow and thin blanket on the floor of the stables, or that her ‘daily meals’ were a palm-sized piece of bread and small bowl of water every morning; twice a day if Lady Bennett was in a generous mood.

“ _There are others in the village that could offer you the same, possibly more…why do you let yourself be treated that way?_ ” Hiccup asked, his fists clenching again as he looked off at the guard who was now speaking to yet another guard while keeping his gaze on Marietta, “ _You know there’s always a way out, right? That you don’t need to live like this…_ ” He looked back to Marietta, his eyes softening at the insecure look on her face. She was biting her lip, keeping her gaze on her torn dress.

“ _It’s not as easy as it sounds, Hikke…_ ” Marietta looked back up at Hiccup with welling crystal blue eyes. Her eyes always confused hiccup. They reminded him of his recurring dream and the woman with the child. They were exactly like the woman’s, so much so that he was often pulled into trances by Marietta’s eyes, trances that were like daydreams of the woman of his dreams. What confused him was Marietta was not that woman. So how could she possibly have those eyes? Mentally shaking himself free of these thoughts before he went into a trance, Hiccup focused on Marietta, “ _If I were to even try to leave, the Bennetts might just hunt me down and order for me to be killed on sight. I feel safest under their control._ ” Even Marietta knew she was lying. Hiccup did not attempt to correct her, to change her mind, because she was half-right. She had the same reasons for not leaving as he had for not going to the Bennett Manor and tearing it down stone by stone: they would be the prey of a seemingly endless hunt.

“ _One day, Marietta. One day you’ll find your chance to leave. And I assure you that your life will finally start once you do._ ” The guard started on his way back to them and Hiccup stepped back from leaning on the window counter, not knowing when he had changed positions from his straight posture.

“ _You’re done here, girl. Move._ ” The guard pushed Marietta away, just as she dropped a sheet of paper on the counter. Hiccup picked it up as he watched the pair leave. He looked down at the sheet to see the waist belt design, one more elaborate than the last one he made. He groaned, knowing this new project would just be more work to add to his list. He sat back at his desk and pulled up his journal. He flipped through the pages of weapon plans to a single page with a letter written in Norse.

A few months back, he finally asked Toothless why he did not have a given name, aside from the one Hiccup gave him himself.

That was when the secret of the ‘Queen’ came out.

Apparently, the dragons did not raid villages out of their own personal gain. If they could, they would avoid villages of ruthless dragon-killing humans. Hiccup had asked, then why did they?

The dragons told of a great beast that rested in the center of the dragons’ nest, a sitting duck that was too big to leave its own home without bringing it down to rumble. It was a dragon – if you wanted to call it that – that had a special ability: it could control minds. It reeled dragons in when they entered her sphere of control, and made them do her bidding. In other words, raid villages for food to feed her. Sheep, yaks, fish, even a human now and then if they could. With every dragon it lured into its control, it got stronger.

When Hiccup asked what this had to do with Toothless being nameless…Toothless’ mother was captured by the Queen when she was still heavy with hatchlings. While under the control of the Queen, his mother laid three eggs and they all hatched, three healthy Night Furies. However, his mother was so controlled by the Queen that she barely came to her right mind enough to feed them, let alone name them. Out of the three, only Toothless survived the first year, fighting through the starvation so that he could live to maturity. His mother soon became a victim of the Queen’s hunger, and he has been under her control ever since.

And so, Hiccup concluded that the dragons’ nest was dangerous for not only humans, but also dragons. With this realization came yet another one. His father was known for being the most stubborn of Vikings, and this meant he would continue his nest hunts despite losses in both men and supplies.

For months Hiccup debated sending a letter back to Berk to warn his father to seize his hunts, for they were fruitless. He should save his resources and men for raids. Hiccup was not sure if he really wanted to help out his home village or not, but soon realized he was being heartless for holding back. It was not the best home, but they did not deserve to all lose their lives to serve a relentless chief and fight a senseless war.

Hiccup closed his journal, therefore taking his eyes off the letter he had prepared for when he decided to help out his people. He looked at the sheet with the belt design and thought of Marietta. Why did it feel like he wanted to help everyone?

First he does not want to kill dragons and leaves with them so they would not be harmed.

Then he offers to bring back life to his generous host and help her with daily chores.

Next he meets a lonely maid of a girl in Marietta and constantly gets thoughts of helping her escape.

Lastly he finds out about the Queen and wants to not only warn his tribe, but someday bring an end to the beastly ruler.

There seemed to be no end to the impossible goals he set for himself. Flipping open his journal to the page with the hidden blade design, Hiccup had a thought. What if he could get help? Bring a group of people together to fight for similar causes? An Order of people fighting for peace and safety?

Hiccup shook his head to clear the ridiculous thoughts. Like that could ever work, let alone come to be.

**_Rien n'est vrai, tout est permis._ ** ****

_“Man seeks dominion over all that he encounters. I suppose it is a natural tendency for us to aspire towards mastery of our surroundings. But this should not include other human beings. Every day more and more are pressed into service – by deception or by force. Others, though not so firmly imprisoned, are made to feel as if their lives are worthless…”_ – Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proper Creed Translation Credit: Pyrophoricity  
> Originally Posted: April 16, 2013  
> Recently Revised: March 10, 2015
> 
> Notes:  
> • Inaccurate Historical Information – If someone reading this is a history major/buff, I am very sorry. I know the timelines and facts are all screwy, I am not ignorant of that. But since I’m not that into history, I didn’t have the motivation to research accurate history, plus some of my characters wouldn’t even exist if I did stick to accuracy. I will say that this story takes place around the 4th century, meaning the Roman Empire is coming to an end. Part of the reason Uzuri keeps being thrown into the arena, since the Romans ended up trying to entertain their people with battles to distract them from their failing empire. That I do know. Pretend that as the Roman Empire is falling, that the Holy Crusade is starting now, which explains Maria Thorpe for the Assassin’s Creed fans. After this story, and maybe the sequel if I get around to, I will then try to stick to accurate history. Like the Black Plague, since that will still happen.


	9. Dark Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creed Language: Welsh
> 
> WARNING! Allusions to: rape, child abuse, sexual activities, underage sex, pedophilia, etc. WARNING!

_**Rydym yn tyngu gan y fflamau o anrhydedd i aros yn ein llafnau gan y diniwed.** _  
_**Rydym yn tyngu gan y rhaeadr o Hirhoedledd i byth yn bradychu y Gorchymyn.** _  
_**Dim creadur yn cael ei adael ar ôl. Nid oes enaid yn cael ei anghofio.** _  
_**Rydym yn gweithio yn y nos i wasanaethu'r golau.** _  
_**Rydym yn hedfan uwchben y tiroedd i amddiffyn bywydau isod.** _  
_**Yr ydym yn ddyn. Rydym yn anifail.** _  
_**Yr ydym yn beicwyr ddraig.** _

Sage wrapped her cloak tightly around her as she scanned her surroundings. Although she was far from her village, she still worried about being caught by her parents or one of the villagers. Even after so many attempts – and successes – at sneaking out of the village, she would always worry that someone would see her despite her almost mastery of the art of stealth by this point.

What always had her hesitating was the thought of someone finally wondering where shy little Sage Bryn had gone, why she was always disappearing. Being a village so close to a Roman settlement town, you would believe them to be more cautious and aware of the whereabouts of their people in such dangerous lands. In her opinion, they never worried because she never gave them much to worry about.

Sage was known to be shy and in favor of being left alone in peace. She preferred to be alone on top of a nearby hill, playing her beloved zither to the sounds of nature. The local villagers had no problem leaving her to her own devices, possibly because she played better in comfortable silence, and everyone enjoyed the calming melodies of her zither. It kept them tranquil in such troublesome times as these, when the neighboring Romans could one day decide to raid their village as well. When she was not playing, she would stay home watching after the fire as she weaved up a tapestry or two.

With obviously no music playing in the village, that was probably what they assumed she was doing now.

Taking a deep breath, Sage swallowed her anxiety and continued toward the Roman town borders. Being a frequent unnoticed visitor, she knew of many weaknesses in the Roman guard, being the reason why she could so easily get into their borders. As she neared the town, the fields of tall grass started to thicken and bushes appeared here and there. A tree or two every ten meters; the amount increasing as she neared. It was a wonder how the Romans gained so much power, when they neglected to clear the brush along the outskirts of their towns. They were making it that much easier for Sage to come into their territory without so much of a hassle.

Sage quickly ducked into the bushes, securing her hood as she did so, and began to search for a secret hideaway. Her foot bumped into something soft and she reached down and pulled the object to eye level. She smiled, _Perfect_. She unwrapped the bundle and pulled out common townspeople attire. Her friend, Blaine, was always reliable. Sage undressed, keeping low to hide her modesty, and put on the local attire, wrapping her own clothes back in the cloth and left it in the same spot she found it.

Pulling her cloak back on, Sage watched out for any stray guards as she tiptoed through the brush to the short wall that surrounded the town. The part of the wall that she came to was the one she usually always used. A section of the wall was starting to come apart, and if you knew exactly which part – of the many that were coming loose – of the crumbling wall to pull out, everything else would remain stable, and a small passageway would be made. Although she was tall for her age, Sage was a very thin and lanky girl. So slipping through was not too difficult.

Finding herself on the other side of the wall, Sage gave herself a mental cheer and began to start hiding behind the many houses towards her friend's own home. When she arrived to the door of her friend's home without being caught, she finally allowed herself to relax and smile. Bringing her hand up to knock, she prepared herself for yet another adventure filled day.

_**~*~** _ _**Safety and Peace** _ _**~*~** _

"I'll see you after the next full moon." Blaine smiled, hugging her friend closer to her in a warm embrace. Sage felt at peace in her only friend's arms. Blaine was the only one that understood there was more to her than 'the tall quiet girl with the stringed instrument'. Everyone back in her village could not imagine her as more than that. Even when she did something that was not typically like her, they would blame the nearest person for influencing her ways, because they could not believe she was more than what they thought she was. An innocent angel.

"And not a moon later." Sage pulled away from Blaine and held out her hand. Blaine took it in hers and placed her other hand over Sage's, with Sage doing the same. They let go and Sage turned to leave. They were standing by the hole in the wall; Blaine wanted to give her a proper farewell instead of leaving her to leave on her own. Sage slipped through easily and fixed her long skirt, ready to go find her clothes and safely return to her village.

"Sage, look ou-mmph!" Blaine's voice shouted from behind her and Sage's heartbeat quickened. Before she could take off in a run, something collided with the back of her head and she dropped in a bout of blurred vision, weak knees, and unbearable pain.

" _Existimasti impune hoc intrusor_?" a deep voice mockingly asked from somewhere above her.

Sage didn't, or better, couldn't reply.

_**~*~** _ _**Safety and Peace** _ _**~*~** _

Marietta sighed as she finished the last chore of the day. She wiped at her forehead trying to regulate her breathing. She looked around at the dark cellar that Lady Bennett had sent her to clean. It was covered from floor to ceiling in dust and dirt. Insects of all kinds crawled along the floors and walls with a mouse or two scurrying around. She had been down there since mid-morning, and although she was technically done, the dark cellar didn't look much different.

Marietta picked up her supplies and used her long apron to hold everything. With one last quick look around, she made her way out of the dark underground room and out into some fresh air. Knowing she must look more of a mess than usual, Marietta made her way to the servants' quarters to wash herself off. She made sure to avoid the main halls and keep out of view of the Lady of the manor. If Lady Bennett were to get a hold of her, she would be scrubbing more than just the floors for the night.

Ever since Astoria Bennett found out about Marietta's little visits to the blacksmith's apprentice during her occasional market trips, she had had Marietta working herself to death day in and day out. Being used to the abuse, Marietta could have easily dealt with the chores without complaint; a new habit of sorts that she developed since Hiccup arrived. He was her break from unyielding servitude, brightening her days with a crooked smile and big forest green eyes.

Marietta will admit that she had come to admire the boy since he had set home in old lady Lynnette's little cottage. He was different from the rest and did not judge her, despite her being even lower than the low of the village. When she would mention something about her living conditions or her lack of support from others in her line of work, she could see a tad of understanding in his eyes. She could tell from his expressions that although he was never so badly treated or ignored, he could relate to being treated like the dirt under another's foot. He listened, he understood, and that was enough for Marietta to slowly fall for the younger boy.

Knowing he would always be just a market's trip away, Marietta did not let what the Bennetts do to her get her mood down. He was the bright side to her dark world.

That was, until he left yet again for a trip down south. It should not have been such a problem for the teenage girl, but now Lady Bennett knew of her friend. She knew all about Marietta's detours to the blacksmith. She knew Hiccup's presence and Marietta's interaction with him was the reason behind Marietta's carefree behavior.

So she took advantage of Hiccup's disappearance, making Marietta work that much harder.

Marietta was getting sick of it. She could not possibly take another day of this!

As if to make things _better_ , Lord Bennett informed her that he wanted to see her tomorrow night for some topics he has to _discuss_ with her. To Lady Bennett and the children, it seemed like a simple meeting to tell her of new chores she had to do on top of what Astoria already has her doing. However, they could not be more wrong.

Marietta felt her heartbeat quicken and her body shiver at the thought of it, and not in pleasure. In fear.

She wants to be free of this life, to live the way her friend does. To be free to leave at a whim, to not have anyone demand such horrible things of you. To live a life that is all your own, where you get to decide how you will go on day after day. No one in charge, no one to say that everything is impossible. No one to say she is not beautiful, or not strong, or not worth anything. That is the life she wishes to live.

When Marietta made it to the stables, she lay by her makeshift bed and set her supplies beside her, carefully organizing them so as to grab them at a moment's notice. In her world, you could never know when an irritable Astoria Bennett would come marching in, demanding something of you. As she set everything in its place, she noticed an extra piece in her apron that she never remembered taking with her.

She pulled it out slowly, her eyes widening at the object in her hand. It was longer than she thought and most definitely sharper.

It was a long jagged blade, probably a shard of metal that was on the floor of the cellar. She watched as it gleamed in the moonlight that shined into the stables. Marietta stared at the shard, wondering what she could do with it.

The logical option would be to get rid of it. She could throw it into some bushes on the way to the manor tomorrow, pretend she was never in possession of the object. She would go on with her days, eventually forgetting that she had ever seen the thing, and wait for Hiccup to return to bring her back into good spirits.

The second option would be similar to the first, in where she would get rid of the shard. However, she would give it in to one of the kitchen hands or to Lady Bennett herself. With this option, she had the hope of possibly getting on Lady Bennett's good side. She had never done anything aside from her chores to gain praise, so maybe doing something that was not asked of her would end in good will. Maybe Lady Astoria would offer her a better bed, maybe a room of her own that she did not have to share with barn animals. She never asked for anything, so maybe a little begging along with the return of the shard could end with her landing a section of her own with the other help inside the manor.

The third option was the riskiest one, and probably the hardest. It was something she would have never considered before she had the shard in hand. Is was a thought more associated with Lord Bennett, but could be done with the Lady as well. Marietta bit her lip and she stared at her reflection in the metal.

Her face smeared with dirt and grime, she was a mess, nothing like the Bennetts. Pulling a strand of hair behind her ear, Marietta wondered what young James saw in her. Or miss Emily, for that matter. She heard the young girl tell her mother that she was pretty, so why was she put to work. Astoria would reject her claims again and again, declaring that Marietta was nothing but disgusting filth. The world would be better off without her. Despite the young girl's unexplained need to not believe her mother, Marietta was sure even Miss Emily would come to treat her in the same way.

It was opposite from what Lord Bennett always had to say. While not in earshot of Lady Bennett of course. The lecher of a man was always looking at her in disgusting ways. Always undressing her with his eyes. Always pulling her along when the Lady and children were absent. Marietta learned long ago there was no stopping the ghastly man, what with his larger frame and her weakened body. She was nothing but skin and bones; what could she possibly do to protect herself? Aside from her inability to save herself, there were the things he said to her that she wished she could forget. She had always dreamed of being beautiful and having her beauty acknowledged, but when that man complicated her features, listening to every word he said was similar to torture. Torture of probably the worst kind, second to or rivaling the physical companion to his shiver-inducing words.

With a gasp, Marietta looked down at her hand to see it bleeding. She had not noticed, but remembering all the pain the Bennetts caused her had made her clench her fist. She had completely forgotten about the shard in her hand until it started to cut deep into her palm.

She dropped the shard and tightly closed her hand, trying to stop the bleeding. Not looking at her injured hand, Marietta turned her gaze to the blood on the stable floor. After such thoughts of how they had treated her, Marietta could not seem to see the stain in the ground as her spilled blood.

At that moment, the blood was not hers.

In her mind, it was the blood of Lord and Lady Bennett.

_**Nid oes dim yn wir, mae popeth yn cael ei ganiatáu.** _

_"Life is not a fairy tale and there are no happy endings." –_ Achilles Davenport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1): Latin "Existimasti impune hoc intrusor?" "Thought you could get away with this, intruder?"
> 
> Original Character Credit: Sage Bryn by faegirl123 (of FF.net)  
> Originally Posted: November 4, 2013  
> Recently Revised: March 10, 2015
> 
> Notes:  
> ~ Warnings - For those easily triggered by even the slightest mentions of rape, I am so sorry I didn't put the warnings up earlier. It was mainly because I was loosely referring to Marietta's situation, and didn't think it time for warnings (This refers to my fanfiction.net original upload of this chapter). But I decided that I would put them up now, just in case. If anyone's bothered by what's mentioned would like to tell me which part made them uncomfortable, go ahead. Then I will go back and put a warning before and after said parts. I would need at least 3 to 5 complaints to do so, though. Proper warnings for stronger material will go up when that stronger material comes up in the story.


	10. Captured Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creed Language: Basque

_**Zinohoreasugarrakdugugurepalakloerrugabeada.** _   
_**Zin egitendu,ur-jauzibiziraupenainoizsalduOrdendugu.** _   
_**Izaki, ez da atzeangeratzen. Arimaezdaahazturik.** _   
_**Gauezlan egitendugunargiazerbitzatzeko.** _   
_**Soarlurgainetikdugubizitzabehekobabesteko.** _   
_**Gizongara.Piztiagara.** _   
_**Dragoitxirrindulariakgara.** _

Hiccup packed up all his things in one of his many bags. He made sure to bring food, clothes and medical supplies, not forgetting a thing. Now he only had one more bag – well basket – to pack with his journals and weapons, ones he made himself.

He was off for another few days to visit one of the neighboring lands. Although he made a habit of coming back to Lynnette's as though it was his home, he had the need to explore more worlds, learn new things, and not stay cooped up in the little old lady's cottage every day. Aside from that, the dragons needed some breathing room. Any day now, Ponto was going to waltz into town and everything would end in pure chaos. Arilla's uncaring attitude towards the little lizard's mischievous ways just meant one less _responsible_ dragon to watch over the little monster.

They were also leaving because Hiccup needed to get as far away from these lands as possible.

A month earlier, Hiccup had listened to his heart and tuned out his mind. He sent the letter to Berk via messenger bird. It was troublesome enough getting ahold of a bird that could find the island, let alone handing it over after hesitating for days on whether he would send it or not. In the end, Toothless became the voice of reason and practically _shoved_ Hiccup over to the nearest bird keeper. Not really, of course, then everyone would know Hiccup was hiding dragons right under their noses.

And if Hiccup knew his father as much as he thought he did, Stoick would easily recognize both the handwriting and the bird. It was a bird known to be from the Anglo-Saxon lands, and Stoick made it his job to know that. A dead give away to his whereabouts. He could not have his father finding him. If he ever decided he wanted to return home, it would be far into the future. He still needed to find a better purpose in this dark world before he could face his past. It has only been a year; he needed much more time.

" _Must you really go?_ " Hiccup halts his thoughts and packing to turn to the source of the voice. It is Old Lady Lynnette standing in the doorway to his room. She is dressed in her working gown, the white of the apron around her waist already riddled with dirt stains. Lynnette likes to remind Hiccup of her wayward daughter and how strong Maria was compared to the old woman she has become. Yet she refuses to let Hiccup help no matter how much he offers. Performing all these chores with such energy at her age, Lynnette was much stronger than a daughter who left her old mother to become a knight.

Despite how capable she is in her old age, Hiccup would sometimes be reluctant when leaving her to adventure. She was too kind a woman and too old an age to be working as hard as she did. Hiccup sometimes wondered if he would sic his dragons on her daughter if he ever met her.

" _My adventures are more than just hobbies, ma'am. They are a need, a necessity. As lovely as your home is, my heart soars when I discover new things and experience different lands_ ," Hiccup packed away the last of his things and set them down before turning to his humble and generous host, " _You have done so much for me in the past six months, Lynnette. It is why no matter how far or how long I travel, I will always return as long as you will have me_." He gave her a small smile that she returned. Lynnette stepped up closer to the now taller-than-her teen, embracing him.

" _I will always have room for a young gentleman such as you, dear Hikke_." She released him from her grasp, leaning back to inspect his hair before licking her fingers. Hiccup was late to react and could not stop the old woman from trying to fix his hair. Not giving Hiccup a chance to protest, Lynnette nodded in approval and stepped out of the room. Hiccup stood by his things in slight shock. That simple gesture faintly reminded him of another pair of gentle hands that used to treat him in such caring ways.

" _Well don't just stand there. If you're going to leave me to my own devices, you might as well treat me to the simple pleasures of filling up that black hole you call a stomach,_ " and just like that, Hiccup came out of his trance to notice Lynnette with her head peaking back into his temporary bedroom; the faint memory forgotten for now. After seeing that she had his attention, Lynnette patted at her apron before continuing her short trip back to her kitchen, " _I swear, Hikke, where do you put all that food? You're a growing boy, and growing boys need to eat to fill out. I could present you a feast and you'd barely gain a pound if you ate it three times over!_ " she continued to rant even as the sound of her voice dimmed as she walked further and further from Hiccup's room.

Shaking his head to clear it, Hiccup could not help but smile. He picked up his things and made his way out of the room. Lynnette did not know it, but not for the first time since Hiccup first arrived six months ago, she made Hiccup wonder if this was what having a mother was like.

Maria was really missing out.

_**~*~** _ _**Safety and Peace** _ _**~*~** _

" _Etes-vous sûr que vous ne me dérange pas?_ " a little girl of about seven asked as she parted Hiccup's hair. This was only his second visit to her little French village, so she was not sure if he was comfortable with having his hair braided by someone who might as well be a stranger.

Hiccup smiled over his shoulder at the young girl, just barely understanding her, " _Oui. I sûr._ " He settled her worries as he relaxed against her hands. With a smile, the little girl began to slowly braid different sections of his hair, being careful to make the braids in random places, leaving no more than two or three in the same spot. Hiccup tried to stay awake as he sharpened a few of his weapons.

This was the second time he visited this little village, outside the outskirts of the main town. It was in a random section of the French lands near the Roman borders. He was risking much being so close to his tribe's 'natural enemies'. However, this village was one of very few that accepted his draconic friends, even if some of them were a bit wary. These were the type of places he loved to visit; places where his friends could live among the people just the same as he. They were loving it.

Arilla – the Nadder – was a big fan of the attention, especially from the children of the village. Kimba – the Gronckle – was enjoying the constant cuddling from the many young children who preferred to lie against her on the planes. Taworri and Teangi were not as comfortable with the villagers, but that did not stop them from wreaking havoc on some of the more troublesome children. Any kids that decided they were going to make the dragons the targets of their pranks and games, had the two-headed reptile on their tails within hours. Paratyl – the Nightmare – was not as social, keeping to himself and not necessarily scaring others off, but making it obvious he wanted to avoid all human contact that was not his human companion, Hiccup. Ponto – the Terror – was over the moon, seeing as he made it his goal to become the village pet, trying to get every villager to feed and pet him at least once.

According to Toothless, he had yet to succeed since there were some that were still skeptical.

Hiccup came out of his thoughts to feel a slight tug of his hair. He passed it off as the little girl making the braids in his hair. He picked up one of his newly made weapons. A three-foot steel, double-edged sword with intricate knot work designs in the fuller, an intricately designed cross-guard to match the fuller, a two inch black leather grip, and a specially designed pommel.

Being his prize weapon, Hiccup had paid equal attention to the beauty of the weapon as he did to its lethal aspect. So when designing and carving the pommel, he decided to make his own crest. A crest to represent his new family, yet still represent his first home.

When he had first started designing the crest, he may have went overboard with the knot work. The main piece of the crest was a tree whose roots, branches, and leaves were all connected in a ring of intricate and delicate knot work that had Hiccup's employer, Thomas Smith, gaping in awe of the detail. To make the design much more in touch with his new family and his new self, he also decided to add in a dragon. A dragon with no limbs aside from its wings, with a long tail and long neck, as majestic as the draconic friends he drew his inspiration from. It was simple in the way that it only featured two objects, a dragon centered over a tree. However, it was the knot work design that made it complicated. It also made it that much harder to carve into the pommel of his sword. Nevertheless, he had done it.

Putting his sword down, Hiccup was going to inspect his newly made – and not yet complete – hunting knives, when a green blur slammed into his side. Hiccup was knocked over, leaving the little girl who was sitting behind him to freeze in shock, a small lock of auburn hair in her hands. When she realized it was just Hiccup's dragon friend, Ponto, she looked back at her hands and gasped.

Hiccup groaned as he stood up from his new position on the ground. He looked up to see little Ponto panting above him, his short legs trembling slightly. Before Hiccup could question the Terror, a sharp pain finally registered from the back of his head.

"Ah!" his hand flew up to touch the back of his head, only to return lightly painted red. It was not much blood, not enough to panic, but enough to question. He looked up to see the little girl holding a lock of his hair.

" _Sorry_ …" she quietly apologized, using one of the few words she knew in English, thanks to him. He waved it off with a soft smile before turning back to Ponto.

**:⁞** _What happened, Ponto? Are you alright?_ **⁞:** Hiccup asked the Terror, speaking in growls and hisses. The little girl looked on in slight awe, but mostly in confusion. The little Terror slowed its breathing before growling back quietly.

**:⁞** _Paratyl spotted humans!_ **⁞:** Ponto hissed, obviously panicking. Although he and the others were capable of defending themselves, they had grown too used to this life. A life where they traveled the lands and lived for themselves, following the peculiar human who could somehow speak their tongue. It was a life without violence; a life they had grown to love. If more humans were to find them and threaten their existence now, it would be exactly like their life under the influence of the dragon queen; fighting day and night against Hiccup's people.

Hiccup was yet again confused. Paratyl, though avoiding human contact in his temporary nest in the trees, spotted humans all the time. The experience came with living in a village. And seeing as they were the only village of people for miles (it was how they had avoided the Romans for so long. Stay near the edge of their territory but away from other villages) the only human he would spot would be someone from the village. Maybe it was just a group of villagers exploring the forest that Paratyl had not yet met properly; in other words, it could be a majority of the village because of his need to keep his distance.

:⁞ _It was probably just some villagers, Ponto. You know as well as I do that Paratyl could barely tell the leader of the village from a common farmer._ ⁞: Hiccup scoffed, getting to his feet and wiping at the dirt on his pants.

:⁞ _No! Not the villagers! Others! With weapons! They had what your people call armor; and it was bright! They had helmets with red hair!_ ⁞: Ponto seemed to be panicking even more, his head slightly twitching towards the forest he came from, hearing something. Hiccup stopped to think for a second, wondering who Ponto was describing. Then because of a memory from his childhood, he suddenly realized.

"Romans…" Hiccup whispered to himself, the realization momentarily froze him in shock. The Romans have left this village in peace for years, decades perhaps, not once taking the time to even notice the poor little farmers' village separated from almost all of the rest of France. What could possibly have driven them to finally pay them a visit?

Shaking the thought out of his head, Hiccup was quick to grab the little girl's hand.

" _Venez. Revenir ville. Roman est ici._ " He spoke to the poor young soul in his broken French. Although his French was so obviously in need of work, the little girl was able to understand. Trouble was near and she had to go back into the village. With a nod, the little girl allowed Hiccup to pull her along.

**:⁞** _Ponto! Run into the village and gather the others. I need them all in town when I arrive._ **⁞:** Hiccup growled at Ponto, deciding to pick up the little girl to run without burden. Ponto was quick to rush off to town, moving faster than Hiccup could ever dream, despite his personal training. As he ran towards the semi-safety of the village, Hiccup looked back towards the forest Ponto emerged from. If he strained his ears enough, he could just barely here a large amount of chattering in the distance. Hiccup prayed his hearing had improved enough to hear long distance; otherwise, the Romans would have sounded too close for comfort.

Finally arriving in the village, Hiccup was quick to find his little circle of dragons. Paratyl had also appeared, looking around at the humans that surrounded him. Seeing the group of dragons all strangely together, the people of the town were worried, wondering the reason for their gathering. When the foreigner, Hikke, arrived rushed and panicked, the villagers had no doubt something was wrong.

" _Claudette!_ " a feminine voice called out, followed by a woman making her way out of the crowd to run towards the pair, quickly taking the little girl into her arms. She hugged her tight to her person, the little girl, Claudette, hugging her around the neck just as tightly. Hiccup gave a quick smile before becoming serious yet again.

" _Tout le monde! Le Romain! Roman est là!_ " As he spoke, Hiccup cursed his terrible French. This was not a time for his poor linguistic skills to display themselves. Nevertheless, the villagers seemed to understand the point of his panic. They needed either to get away, or hope that the Romans would not do much more than take some of their supplies. Most were leaning towards running for no one can ever know what a legion of Romans could decide to do to a newly discovered village of humble farmers.

People started to run off to collect their things; some were already off. Hiccup looked around at the chaos his panic ensued. This was not the way he wanted everyone to handle the situation.

" _Tout le monde! Prenez ce besoin! Pas tout! Prenez important! Nourriture, des couvertures, de l'eau!_ " Hiccup shouted before running into action himself. He ran over to the group of dragons, relieved to see most already had his – usually – packed up baskets.

**:⁞** _No need to panic, but we have to leave the village_. **⁞:** Hiccup quickly explained, going over to each dragon to inspect the baskets, make sure everything was in place.

Arilla jerked back in what looked like surprise, **:⁞** _Leave? Why do we have to leave? I thought the humans here adored us_ … **⁞:** she gave one of her famous dragon winks to a child running nearby. The child stopped to smile and wave before being hastily pulled along by its mother. Arilla lightly growled at the interruption to the attention. The male dragons around her rolled their eyes while Kimba blinked, waiting for Hiccup to answer Arilla's question.

**:⁞** _The Romans, vicious warriors much like the Vikings of my homeland, are arriving very soon. If they get here, they would not only steal most of the villagers' supplies, but probably take some people hostage, even mate with women against their will. When it comes to the Romans, you can never be sure of what damage they will inflict on innocent people_. **⁞:** After closing the last basket, Hiccup turned to Toothless **:⁞** _Come on. We need to gather in the center of the village. They were generous enough to not only accept us but give us shelter. It'd only be fair that we help them out of here_. **⁞:** Toothless nodded, agreeing with Hiccup.

**:⁞** _Hiccup is right. Come on then_. **⁞:** Toothless turned to follow Hiccup to the center of the village. The others exchanged glances before following along, Ponto jumping onto Paratyl's back to keep up.

The ragtag group of dragons and their human friend gathered in the middle of the chaos that was the little French village. Hiccup tried not to panic along with them. If he was right, the Romans were not very far away, meaning they could arrive at any moment. They needed to escort the villagers out soon.

" _Tout le monde!_ " Hiccup almost sighed. That word seems to have become his favorite today, " _Allez à-_ " Hiccup racked his brain trying to find the word for dragon, but it seemed to have slipped his mind, "-uh... _bêtes!_ " that worked, " _Allez avec les bêtes! Ils gardent en toute sécurité! Prenez les choses et les bêtes de montage!_ " when the villagers began to understand what he wanted of them, Hiccup started herding them to climb onto the dragons, women and children first.

When the dragons were loaded with all the humans they could bare, the rest were told to follow Ponto. The little dragon would surely lead them away from the Romans and to safety. Some of the braver souls decided to stay behind to hold off the Romans while the rest got away. Hiccup was ready with his sword, not exactly certain of how to use it properly yet.

**:⁞** _Take them away. As far from Roman territory as you can. Once the coast is clear and the village void of Romans, and only when it's clear, do you return the villagers to their homes. Protect them at all costs_. **⁞:** Hiccup told the dragons just before they were off, either taking to the skies or leading people away.

Hiccup watched as the villagers disappeared in one direction and the Romans appeared from the other. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself to get captured despite his time with the dragons.

Too bad he was taking these brave people with him.

_**~*~** _ _**Safety and Peace** _ _**~*~** _

_Stoick_

_First and foremost, I would like to inform you that I am still alive. I have lived in many places since my departure, moving on once I found myself getting too comfortable. As you can probably tell, one of my settlements was one of the Anglo-Saxon villages. I did spend some time there, learning how to speak English, and also working as a blacksmith's apprentice. I am no longer there, probably not even close, so I'd advise against searching for me. I would be far gone by the time you do._

_Now that I have hopefully settled any worries of yours, if you had any; to the real reason for this letter. In my time away, I have gathered information that should be of great use to you. It concerns dragons, and even more importantly, the dragons' nest. There is a creature on their island, a creature that no Viking could ever dream of defeating. This creature is the equivalent of a queen for the dragons and has some kind of ability to control the minds of dragons so that they could do her bidding. I have seen mind-controlled dragons in my time away; their eyes are glazed and they don't respond. They are high wired to collect and return food to the queen._

_If you continue to search for the nest, not only would you unnecessarily lose more supplies and warriors; you are in danger of facing not only an army of dragons but also their queen if you actually succeed in finding the island. As much as I am sure you are skilled enough to handle a handful of dragons, I can also assure you that you can't win this._

_I hope you trust my words and take them to heart. If you do, your actions could one day lead to peace in the northern lands between Vikings and dragons._

_Your son,_

_Hiccup_

Stoick took a deep breath, not believing the words he had just read. His self-exiled son was asking that he give up his life-long goal because of his lack of faith in his own tribe. And from the sound of it, Hiccup was siding with those beasts. Stoick ran a hand down his face before staring into the eyes of the messenger bird that gave him the letter. He knew where the bird came from, but if Hiccup's words were true, he would not be around if Stoick tried to track him down.

How could everything have gone so wrong?

_**Ezer ez da egia, dena onartzen.** _

" _While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die."_ – Leonardo Da Vinci, Assassin's Creed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1): French "Etes-vous sûr que vous ne me dérange pas?" "Are you sure you don't mind?"  
> (2): French "Oui. I sûr." "Yes. I sure."  
> (3): French "Venez. Revenir ville. Roman est ici." "Come. Go back town. Roman is here."  
> (4): French "Tout le monde! Le Romain! Roman est là!" "Everyone! The Roman! Roman is here!  
> (5): French "Tout le monde! Prenez ce besoin! Pas tout! Prenez important! Nourriture, des couvertures, de l'eau!" "Everyone! Take what need! Not everything! Take important! Food, covers, water!"  
> (6): French "Tout le monde!" "Everyone!" Gonna be learning some French today, I guess.  
> (7): French "Allez à-" "... bêtes!" "Allez avec les bêtes! Ils gardent en toute sécurité! Prenez les choses et les bêtes de montage!" "Go with-" "…beasts!" "Go with beasts! They keep safe! Take things and mount beasts!"
> 
> Originally Posted: November 4, 2013  
> Recently Revised: March 12, 2015


	11. Friends Aplenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creed Language: Finnish
> 
> WARNING! Allusions to: child neglect, child abuse, pedophilia, etc. WARNING!

_**Me vannovat liekit kunnia jäädä meidän terät viattomia.** _   
_**Vannommeko vesiputouksella pitkäikäisyyttä koskaan petä järjestyksessä.** _   
_**Ei olento jää taakse. Ei sielu on unohdettu.** _   
_**Toimimme yöllä palvelemaan valoa.** _   
_**Me liidellä yli laskeutuu suojella ihmishenkiä alla.** _   
_**Olemme mies. Olemme peto.** _   
_**Olemme lohikäärme ratsastajaa.** _

The weeks following Marietta's discovery of the shard were frustrating to say the least. Actually, that could be seen as a tad bit of an understatement.

Astoria seemed to have found her favorite punishment in assigning Marietta to clean out the cellar. It was a room that would possibly need a miracle to truly be cleaned enough to look decent, and so would be an impossible task if one was ordered to continue cleaning it until it shined. The morning after finding the shard was the first of these 'punishments'. Because of this, Marietta had forgotten all about hiding or handing in the shard. She was too busy trying to clean the cellar to remember it.

And so began her darkest days.

The first day, Marietta was told to stay down there until it was spotless, or until dusk. She stayed down in the dark, her only light the few torches around the room. She was not allowed to leave, and so other servants would take pity on her and bring down a loaf of bread or a goblet of water. When dusk finally came, she suffered no pain from seeing light for the first time in hours because the sun had already set.

Every day after that, Astoria believed she could get more done if she was left down there to her own devices. The cellar had become her new home.

When she had considered giving the shard back in exchange for a different living space, she did not think that maybe the cellar would have become her room. However, now that the cellar was her new living quarters even _without_ giving in the shard, she wished she could sleep with the animals again. It was better to be with the horses than the rats and spiders.

And so she worked in the dark, ate in the dark, and slept in the dark. The dark became a constant to her in her time in the cellar.

She would clean as much as she could, knowing it was hopeless and she was only down there so that Astoria would not have to deal with her anymore. To Lady Bennett, she was but a worthless servant who was expendable. To Astoria, being down one servant was worth making the girl suffer, especially since she discovered her husband's sick fascination with the tramp. How dare she think she could lay with her husband right under her nose?

Marietta, though miserable and lonely, came to accept it. It was obvious Hiccup was on one of his long trips off to lands beyond Anglo-Saxon grounds. If and when he came back, she'd probably be dead long before he would go off searching for her. So she scrubbed at the floor, wiped along the walls, and dusted the few objects that were there.

There were times when she would lose hope in actually getting the cellar clean – if there was ever any hope to begin with – and would just sit down against a wall, pull her knees to her chest, and softly bang her head back against the wall. It did not hurt, there was barely any pain at all; but it soon became a sting in the back of her head that she could not stand. It was painful and unbearable at times, but it made her feel. The constant dark would numb her senses when she stalled her cleaning, with nothing to keep her distracted from the isolation. The pain meant something. It meant she had not died yet, that she was still alive and kicking, even if she could barely tell night from day or hear anything other than her cleaning and the scurrying of rats.

Now and then, other servants would sneak in water or bread. She rarely saw or heard them, usually asleep, half-asleep, or not aware of the outside world. She could not recall any of their names, whether she knew them once or not. The isolation was getting to her, not that she tried very hard to keep her sanity. There were times where she would sit still in her usual spot on the ground and picture the other servants and the young Bennetts, so that she could pretend she was not alone. It worked occasionally, filling her daily darkness with imaginary laughter and cheer. But as the days came and went and weeks passed on, it was becoming harder to picture life outside her cellar. She would close her eyes and try to picture Hiccup as hard as she could, but he would come out looking different every time. She feared she would one day completely forget what he looked like if she stayed down there.

One day while nibbling on some bread, she started trying to picture herself. She wanted to picture a happier, livelier version of herself with flowing raven hair and wearing clothes worthy of royals. The mental image of this happier Marietta was more of a blur than anything at first. All she could see in her mind's eye was a blur of blue and black in a vaguely humanoid form. It made her wonder if she had ever seen her reflection before, she honestly could not remember if she ever did. At the very least she never got a good look at herself. It was a depressing thought, enhanced by the depressing cellar and the depressing darkness. This epiphany was an overall depressing moment.

It took days and days of trying to make out the figure's features and the details of her gown. Once the image became clear, Marietta could almost believe there was a real person in the cellar with her. She breathed and she blinked, she walked around and she smiled.

The girl was beautiful; long flowing raven hair that seemed to float in the air behind her as she walked. She wore an elaborate sky blue gown that fell down to pool around her feet, with long and loose sleeves. Underneath the gown, Marietta's double wore a shirt seemingly made up of small pure white blossoms. Her light blue eyes lit up every time her lips would pull into pretty little smiles and she walked around with the grace of a born princess. She was everything Marietta could ever dream to be.

By the time Marietta's imaginary friend had come to fully be, cleaning the cellar had become something of no importance to the fifteen year old girl. She now had her double who she could talk to and smile and laugh with. She had her replacement for Hiccup. She had a friend.

They talked for hours on end, Marietta and her friend. They talked about the Bennett children and how adorable they were. They spoke of the horses in the stables that did not seem to mind Marietta much. They spoke of the servants who cared enough to feed Marietta despite knowing they could be punished for helping her. They spoke of the town and the villagers, especially the kind Lady Lynnette. They spoke the majority of the time about Hiccup, the only person who not only noticed there was something wrong, but actually wanted to help her escape. Marietta's double seemed to really like talking about Hiccup. Marietta could not ask for a better friend.

"Do you have a name?" Marietta asked her double one day. She was scrubbing at the floor halfheartedly, not putting much effort into the action. She knew cleaning the cellar was hopeless, it would never be done. It was still as dark as ever, but having her friend present had lessened the gloom of her situation impressively. She still wished she could escape, run out into the open air, dance in the rain, and maybe watch the sun set. The door locked from the outside, though, and meant she would not be leaving soon.

"I am but a figment of your imagination, Marietta," the double started to explain, making herself comfortable on the bed of flowers Marietta had mentally conjured for her, "I did not exist until you envisioned me all those days ago. You created me to fulfill your desire to speak with someone, to interact with another person. But really, I am just another form of you, here to help you access your subconscious. I represent your innermost desires and your lost memories. I am just a living thought. So no, I do not have a name." she explained, picking up a rose to bring to her nose, sniffing at it with a blissful expression. She set the rose on her lap before looking back up at Marietta.

Marietta knit her eyebrows together in confusion, "You're not real, but you're part of me?" it was a interesting concept, but also one that seemed much too puzzling. Her double smiled, nodding in glee.

"Yes! I'm not real, for if someone were to join you in the cellar, only you would see me. I don't truly exist, not to anyone else aside from you. I am a part of you in the way that you picture me and also how I act. I act just like you, with just the slightest difference. In your isolation, you wanted a friend. But anyone else you tried to imagine couldn't stay for long, or you couldn't quite imagine them correctly. When you imagined me, you imagined yourself. Which is much easier to do than to picture someone else entirely," the double stood up and began to pace the dark cellar, her figure illuminated by a glow that surrounded her form, "So your mind created a friend for you in your image. Someone who would look like you, act like you, speak like you, but with minimal differences. I needed to have somewhat of a mind of my own, linked to you, but not exactly. So I became your physical subconscious." The double went on to continue but was interrupted.

"What's a subconsion?" Marietta asked, her head tilting the tiniest bit to the side. The double giggled, shaking her head, her hand covering her mouth.

"No, no, darling. Not subconsion. Subconscious. It's a part of your mind that is not fully aware. It's like a part of your mind that is constantly asleep, but yet influences your actions and feelings. Somewhat like a sleep-walker; like little Emily. You've seen her haven't you? Wandering the halls, eyes blank, not walking up-right?" Marietta nodded, "She's not fully aware of her surroundings, yet she goes about doing things in her sleep, not knowing she's doing them. That would be a perfect example to explain a subconscious, especially since your deepest desires become apparent in your dreams. Without knowing it, Miss Emily is living out her dream while still asleep, not aware that she's even out of bed. A subconscious works in about the same way. It's not fully aware, but it influences your actions and feelings; what you do outside of your mind."

Marietta nodded in understanding. It was much to absorb all at once, but the explanation was greatly appreciated.

"Do you understand now?" the double asked, and Marietta nodded in turn, "Good. Now to try and not make my explanation too long, I will try to keep it as simple as I possibly can," the double kneeled down in front of Marietta, "As your physical subconscious, I still influence your actions and feelings, but now I am fully aware, and so you will slowly become just as aware. Becoming somewhat of a physical entity like you, I am aware of the outside world. Imagining me into existence will slowly make you aware of your inner thoughts. You will learn of your desires, because I will be here to tell you them. You will remember things thought lost to you, for I will be here to show you them. You wanted a friend, and got much more in return, my dearest Marietta," the double reached up to caress Marietta's cheek. All Marietta felt was a cool sensation, but no real solid touch, "And for making me possible, you get the honor of naming me."

She looked into her doubles bright blue eyes, wondering what to name her. She did not know many names, and she did not want to confuse her new friend with someone who she already knew by giving her their name. She most definitely did not want to name her Astoria, for the thought was a nightmare in itself. To name someone so kind after someone so cruel…

"I don't know many names, friend. I only know the names of those in the castle, and some of the people in the village, nothing more. It would be nice if you had a name similar to mine, I guess."

The double pursed her lips in thought. What could be a fit name for her? Similar to Marietta's of course, seeing as that was obviously one of her desires. Being her subconscious, it would not do to go against it, despite it being such a simple desire.

"I suppose having a name that starts with an M would be suitable. It would be a start to making my name similar to yours."

"M? What's an M?" Marietta asked, not just wondering about her question, but also questioning why her subconscious knew so much more than her. It was making her feel insignificant in comparison. The double, being a part of her, realized the path of her thoughts and was quick to stop them.

"Marietta, dear. Don't ever believe yourself lesser, especially not when compared to me. Remember, I am but another part of you. I was deep inside, just a hidden part of your being. If you find me to be beautiful, then you are beautiful. If you find me to be elegant, then you are elegant. If you find me intelligent, then you are intelligent. We would just have to dig deep to bring it out in you. And an M is a letter of the alphabet. I forgot you never learned to read. Dear me, there is so much to be done in regards to you, darling…but first a name. I believe there was a name murmured around the time of your birth, possibly a name that was considered for you. You were eventually named Marietta, but I believe they were to name you Melantha before someone stepped in. I guess that could be my name. I am the part of you that was lost back then before you began to live, and has now been finally found. I am the flower of your soul, blooming to show you your true self. I am Melantha."

_**~*~** _ _**Safety and Peace** _ _**~*~** _

In the middle of a clear blue sky, thousands of miles above the Atlantic Ocean, a black floating dot appeared. The black dot did not move, did not emit an odor, or produce a sound. It just…remained there.

As if manipulated by an unnatural force, the black dot exploded into a stone doorway. It was massive in size, possibly large enough for two blue whales to slip through together. It floated effortlessly high above the sea, only visible from one side of the doorway.

From the visible side, one could look through and see great fields of undisturbed trees, glowing in the light of dozens of moons and planets in the dark and star scattered sky. Bright and colorful lights shined frequently and without warning from within the forests of trees, lighting up the sections of flora they came from. In that light, creatures never before seen on Earth roamed in the woods. Slithering along the ground, flying among the leaves, or traveling through the branches.

From out of a bluish expanse of trees, a large creature took to the skies, two large and iridescent wings beating to help its large body stay in the air. With speed that did not match its size, the creature neared the doorway, the forests below it slightly shimmering in its wake. As the creature neared the doorway, it became clear it was a breed of dragon unlike any found on earth.

The moment the dragon passed through the doorway, the doorway itself began to shrink, transforming into a black dot, before disappearing altogether.

The dragon flew at a leisurely pace now that it was out of the doorway, and headed south. It was met with clear skies for miles and miles. Once somewhere over the equator, the dragon's markings began to shimmer to life, glowing brightly, with its eyes shining almost as bright as the sun. Seemingly out of nowhere, a large out of place landmass slowly came into existence. Coming close to the floating island, the dragon could see the unfortunate ruins of what looked to be a large castle along with a village and a large brown lake to one side. Before the dragon could feel sorrow for the possible lost lives, the image of the island changed as he came for a landing.

What were once ruins of a kingdom was now nothing but a small village of under twenty homes. The castle was partially intact but still greatly damaged. The dragon shrunk to the size of the average Northern Night Fury as it made its way through the dirt roads of the village to the castle. Seeing as no one was out, the dragon assumed everyone was indoors for noon meal.

The dragon walked through the open castle gates and strolled through many corridors; some missing a ceiling, some a wall, some both or almost all the walls. The walls that remained were a dirt-riddled mosaic of creatures, some familiar and some strange, and luscious forests and vibrate waters. The dragons sighed sadly, remembering when the mosaics could move and talk, glittering with every movement. Now they were still and dull, some cracked or completely gone.

Coming to a grand back hall that was intact, with two curved staircases – left and right – that lead down to an open floor, the dragon stopped to inspect the large space. The dragon remembers when there used to be a statue in the middle of the back hall. Unlike with the mosaics, it was glad the statue was no longer there. The feeling came from knowing whom it was of, of course.

The last King of this kingdom.

Making its way down one of the staircases, the dragon then turns to the wall between the two staircases to see yet another that led down to a large door. It walked down to the door and waited as the door became transparent until it was gone. The dragon walked through – the door reappearing behind him – and down a long hall. At the end of the hall, it opened to a large cylinder shaped cave with an opening at the top, water falling down from the opening like a strangely shaped waterfall. In the middle of the cave was a roaring fire, changing colors to match a very loud argument that sounded throughout the cave.

The dragon sighed, exasperated this time, as its eyes met a pair of humanoid creatures bickering in the light of the flames. They were standing on a platform that circled the cave, floating above a glowing pool of water, with a narrow pathway that led to the fire and then continued into another circle platform around the fire.

The pair consisted of a female humanoid with long light green hair in many different braids down her back. Sticking out from behind two locks of green hair were long and pointed ears that drooped down and back. Her light copper skin peeked out from a strange attire of a long and open front blue cloak with sleeves that split just before the elbow and flared out as it fell away from the forearm. Under the cloak, the woman wore a beige top that looked more like a wrap around her chest, leaving her midriff and everything above her breasts bare. Down her arms were long forest green sleeves. Her body from her waist down was a mix of brown pants with green wraps around the lower legs, two skirts, one a light lavender and the other pink and yellow. Along with the skirts and pants, a stylized sash wrapped around her waist, held up by a golden medallion. Blue markings under her eyes brought out her frustrated pink irises as she argued with the male before her.

The male himself was dressed much more simply than his female companion. The man wore long brown pants that tucked into lighter brown boots, as opposed to his companion's bare feet. His light green and long sleeved undershirt with a simple two-toned shirt over top finished off his look. With matching copper skin, burgundy eyes, dark green hair and long drooping ears, he could pass off for the woman's sibling.

They seemed to be arguing over something important.

"-you be so sure? He could just be another of the unfortunate destined to speak their tongue, and nothing more. He could be meant to follow the shadow, for all we know!" the man exclaimed, trying to get her to see reason.

"Oh please, Sharian! I wouldn't pay so much attention to a simple speaker. And I'm not the only one who thinks he's special. Duracia was the one who pointed him out to me! When has she ever been wrong?!" the woman asked, a look of excitement overcoming her soft features. Her eyes seemed to glow with joy. 'Sharian' snorted.

"Plenty of times, Siofra. I am not saying that Duracia is incompetent, or anything of the sort. But as powerful as she is, that does not make her all-knowing. Not even Sioya Metta knew everything, and she was considered the most powerful of the Mytami!" he cried, gesturing with his hands. 'Siofra' rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

" _I know_ that Duracia doesn't know everything! Don't be stupid, Sharian. But then again, this is the closest we've ever been to interpreting Sioya's prophecy!" Siofra shouted, her bright eyes losing some of their shine.

"It was not even a complete prophecy. Sioya Metta said so herself. She said she was not a Seer, and so her powers could not truly tell the future, no matter how powerful she was. She said to take care when following her words, for one mistake could be the end of what is left of Duracia." Sharian softly replied, now deciding to use calm logic to make Siofra understand. Siofra's form seemed to deflate, her colorful attire dulled with her mood.

"I know what Sioya said. And I took her words to heart. Duracia knows what her mother told her, and like me, she feels she finally found the leaders Sioya prophesized. Yes, we might just be guessing here, but we could also be right," a soft and hopeful smile brightened up her face, "The boy can speak to dragons! Not only that, he's befriended them, trained with them, and cared for them. He's also of royal blood, if you consider being the son of a Viking chief royal blood. But it's close enough!" she reached down to the floor to pick up a long wooden staff from beside her feet. She held it close to her person, running her fingers along the staff as she inspected it, "And as for his co-ruler, there are three options, all with great potential. The blonde, although quiet, has a kind heart and stubborn determination. The Roman can fight, as is obvious. She is also kind but forced into fighting others to survive in a slowly falling empire. The last, the half-blood, she is powerful, very much so. She has lived through many hardships, but has yet to take her life. She could prove to be strong." She looked up into Sharian's eyes.

"She's going insane…" Sharian muttered under his breath. Siofra rolled her eyes and continued as if never interrupted.

"We have been waiting too long for our kingdom to rise, Sharian. I'm not saying I'm desperate, but I am losing hope. But these four, they could be our new hope. Obviously not all four, but at least two of them. They are the closest to the descriptions in the prophecy, and this time both Duracia and I agree. Dare I say it, even Draedorii might possibly agree if he were to get to know them." The dragon decided to finally make his presence known.

"Siofra, my child. How many times must I remind you, my name is Draedoriicamor." The dragon walked over to the pair, its eyes betraying its amusement. Siofra turned with a large grin.

"Drae!" she lunged for the dragon, wrapping her arms around its thick neck. Sharian, despite the smile on his face, sighed.

"He just said his name is Draedoriicamor. Must you always shorten the names of others, especially those more powerful than you?" he huffed with a smirk, one eyebrow raised. Siofra let go of Draedorii's neck to turn to Sharian with her arms akimbo, her eyes narrowed. Draedorii chuckled with a strange huff, a result of being a dragon. He moved to stand before the flames.

"I am assuming you have discovered something, Siofra? A young man – a speaker – I believe?" he asked, watching as the flames changed colors but refused to show him any images of what could possibly have started the argument between the Jaglene siblings. Siofra came to attention, going to stand beside Draedorii.

"Yes, a boy named Hiccup, or Hikke in his language. He is the son of the Hairy Hooligans Chief from Berk. He was an outcast who left, believing he could only live if he escaped his village. He rescued five dragons from that very village, and left the island on the back of his dragon, a Northern Night Fury he named Toothless, or Tannløs. He was recently captured by the Romans while visiting a small French-speaking village near the empire. He is smart and witty – quick learner, already knowing both his home language and English, and was working on his French – and is training himself to fight with the help of his dragon friends." She relayed her information like a soldier to her superior, losing the childish attitude. Sharian came to stand on the other side of Draedorii.

The flames began creating images through different colors. The first image to appear was of a group of village people being dragged into Roman cells. The flames added extra details to a boy being pulled along with the others, his long auburn hair falling in front of his eyes. Said green eyes glared at the guards who tightened their grip on his arms. Draedorii narrowed his eyes in thought.

"And the three girls?" he asked, watching as the boy struggled.

"One is a blonde young woman from a village near a Roman run town. Sage Bryn." Sharian offered.

"She is quiet, likes to stay indoors and sew. Sometimes spends her time playing music out on the hills of her village. But she would occasionally sneak into that town to visit a friend," Siofra continued as the image in the fire changed to that of a fair-skinned woman sitting on the floor of a cell. Her rosy-hued blonde hair loose and string-like, her head tilted down to look at her petite and dirty hands. Her ragged moss green dress fell around her still form, her feet bare and scarred, "She had been successful in her adventures until recently captured, just days before Hiccup. Her friend was punished accordingly."

"The next is Uzuri Nero. The daughter of one of the Roman Generals, Cassius Nero, and a slave by the name of Ziraili." Sharian introduced the next girl.

"Although being the General's daughter, she was seen as a slave and nothing more for the first thirteen years of her life until she lost her mother. That is when Cassius took her in," now the flames showed a dark skinned girl with dark hair reaching past her shoulders. She was dressed in a short white dress with casual brown leather armor around her midriff and falling down her front to about the length of the dress. Her knee-high leather boots and leather forearm braces suggested she had come from training. She stood in the hall of the cell hold, looking into an empty cell, "He's been training her not only to survive in the arena against the challenges thrust upon her, but to also become an important person in the Roman military as was and is tradition in his family. She frequently visits her and her mother's old cell when she can." Siofra bit her bottom lip in thought as she watched the exotic Roman stare blankly at dried blood on an old mat.

"Last is a slave girl being passed as a maid. We have yet to figure out her parentage aside from her mother, a woman initially named Aino di Taika, who went by the name of Doris." Sharian looked to Draedorii out of the corner of his eye, waiting for recognition to show. He was not disappointed.

"Taika? As in the last Mytami clan?" he asked, surprised.

"Taika as in the Mytami clan who declared war against Duracia and all remaining Dratekoni? Yes, that Taika," Sharian said dejectedly, "Aino is a direct descendant of Pietari di Taika, the one to declare he would kill all Dratekoni starting with you, Draedoriicamor, sir." Sharian said with a wince, glancing at the dragon, no Dratekoni, standing beside him.

"But all the members of the clan have perished in the years that passed. Aino was the last, and not being in touch with the other clans, she mated with a Human. Which one, we don't know, but we suspect," Siofra started after her brother before Draedorii could truly react, "All we know is that Marietta now lives, and she was taken in by the Bennetts, only to be forced to clean their Manor," the image changed again to a fifteen year old girl sitting in the dark of a cellar with only a single torch to give light. The room was bare, with only two buckets and some cleaning supplies; one bucket held within it bodily waste. The girl's pale skin was illuminated in the soft torch light, her dark waist long hair touched the floor as she drew into the dirt with her finger, her lips moving as if shaping words. Was she speaking to herself? "She is currently locked up in the cellar of the manor. Although one of the hopefuls, there isn't much hope for the girl unless Hiccup, who so happens to be her friend, breaks out of Roman hands and makes his way back to Bennett Manor to save her. She doesn't seem like it, but she is powerful for a hybrid. Being raised the way she was has made her untrusting of some people and even herself. She believes it best to follow directions and play at making her 'masters' proud of her. If she can find a way of appeasing the Bennetts, she will try it. But she won't fight back. Hiccup can help her with that." Siofra explained while Sharian did not look so sure.

As if to voice her opinion, Duracia herself changed the images in the fire to that of the Roman cellblock again. This time both Hiccup and Uzuri could be seen together. Just as Uzuri was to leave her position by the empty cell, the guards holding Hiccup pushed her aside and threw Hiccup into the empty cell. They closed the bars before Hiccup could gain back his footing and try to fight his way out. Uzuri watched from afar as he shook the bars, shouting at the guards that made their way out. As Uzuri made to follow them out, her eyes met Hiccup's, who finally looked up into hers. Uzuri gasped while Hiccup's eyes widened. Before a word could be said, Uzuri ran for the exit, leaving Hiccup lost in thought. Draedoriicamor tilted his head, watching emotions flicker across the boy's eyes.

"I think you might have found the future rulers, Siofra." He whispered just loud enough for the siblings to hear. Siofra's face lit up in joy, turning to her brother to stick her tongue out childishly. Sharian rolled his burgundy eyes, and turned to look at the image. As if knowing he was being watched, Hiccup looked up into the general direction of the trio.

Sharian's burgundy met Hiccup's forest green.

_**Mikään ei ole totta, kaikki on sallittua.** _

" _And with my death, madmen they will be again..."_ – Garnier De Naplouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally Posted: February 15, 2014  
> Recently Revised: March 13, 2015
> 
> Notes:  
> Changes – (This refers to my fanfiction.net original uploads of this story) The two species/creatures mentioned in this chapter, Mytami and Dratekoni, were originally Mahgeks and Drakguns respectively. I found myself having trouble saying the names when trying to explain my story out loud to my friends. So the names were changed. Also, the names of Mytami [Mahgeks] are going to always take the format of "Given-Name of Clan-Name", with 'di' substituting 'of' when spoken by native speakers of the language of Mytami [Mahgeks]. Don't worry, these creatures will be explained with greater detail later. You will learn of them as Hiccup/Uzuri/Sage/etc. learn of them.


End file.
